


Suburban Cape Cod Blues (You Can Find Anything at Walmart)

by sophie_448



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coming Out, Country Singer Jensen, English Professor Jared, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Out of Character Misha, Press and Tabloids, Queer Themes, Walmart, and nobody knew anything about him, in my defense, misha had just joined the cast when i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-06
Updated: 2009-07-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:16:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophie_448/pseuds/sophie_448
Summary: Country music superstar Jensen Ackles has a secret. Or he did until the tabloids got a hold of pictures of him in a compromising position with another man. Now his agent has shipped him off to some tiny town in Massachusetts where they've never heard of country music to lay low until the scandal dies down. Everything is going according to plan until Jensen meets Jared, an English Professor at the local university. Jared devotes all his free time to LGBT awareness and issues while Jensen would rather just not talk about it. Nonetheless he finds himself falling for Jared. Eventually, though, Jensen has to choose between his multi-million dollar music career-- the life he always thought he wanted-- and true love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [waterofthemoon](http://archiveofourown.org/users/waterofthemoon)
> 
> Originally written for [spn_j2_bigbang 2009](https://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/)
> 
> I have never been to Massachusetts, and I apologize to its residents for what I'm sure are my many inaccuracies.

Jared fidgets behind the desk, watching the students slowly trickle in. Eighteen girls—women—and one guy. More than a few of them are eyeing him in confusion. He watches the clock on the wall. When it hits 2:00 he stands up and walks around to the front of the desk.

“Okay, welcome to Intro to Feminist Lit. That’s English 231. If this isn’t where you meant to be, feel free to leave now. I won’t be offended, I promise.” He grins slightly, glancing around, but nobody gets up. “All right, good. In that case, I’m Jared Padalecki. You can call me Professor Padalecki if you want to make me feel old, but I’d really prefer it if you called me Jared.”

He’s relieved to see some smiles around the room and he turns around to grab a stack of papers.

“This is your syllabus. Take one and pass ‘em along. It’s got our schedule, major assignments, my office hours— _please_ feel free to make use of them—list of required books, of course—” He breaks off when he sees a hand go up three rows back to his left, a tiny blonde with sharp blue eyes. “Yes, question?”

“Yes. I don’t mean to be rude, but—” She pauses. “ _You’re_ our professor for feminist lit?”

Jared hears some low murmurs of assent from around the room. His stomach drops to his toes as sheer terror sets in, but he expected this. He steels his determination and clears his throat. “You mean because I’m a man?”

She turns a little bit pink but nods decisively.

Jared takes a steadying breath and starts talking.

~*~

After the last student files out Jared retreats to Sophia’s office. He flops unceremoniously into a chair, feeling completely wrung out.

“I hate you so much right now,” he tells her.

She looks up from her monitor, a smirk of pure evil on her face. “Aw, honey. Rough day?”

He glares at her. “They nearly ate me alive.”

“What’s the matter? Big man like you afraid of some scrawny fledgling feminists?”

“Yes,” he says, nodding emphatically.

“Oh, come on, Jared. I know you too well. You had them eating out of your hand by the end of the hour, didn’t you?”

He permits himself a small smirk of his own. “Maybe a little. My spiel on the validity of feminist criticism was pretty awesome.”

“See? It’s fine. Didn’t I tell you it would be fine?”

“Actually, what you told me was that you needed a professor for one more section of feminist lit, and with Dr. Bellman on maternity leave, I was the only one remotely qualified.” He pauses. “And you’d cut my balls off if I didn’t do it.”

“Well, I do believe in positive reinforcement,” she says. “Anyway, it’s good to broaden your horizons.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I’m already teaching the course. You can stop sweet talking me.”

“You love me.”

“Wouldn’t be compromising my macho image like this if I didn’t.”

She eyes his pink patterned button-down pointedly. “Honey, the day anybody calls you macho will be the day they’re building snowmen in hell.”

He nods agreeably. “Point. But I figure if I make you feel guilty enough for this maybe you’ll think you owe me sometime down the line.” He tries the puppy eyes of doom, but she shakes her head, laughing.

“Please, if I hadn’t developed an immunity to those eyes I would never have survived being friends with you for two years.”

“Worth a shot.”

“Whatever. Are you ready? We’re going to be late for the meeting if we don’t get going.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just gotta grab my bag from my office, then we can go.”

~*~

Most of the group is already assembled by the time Jared and Sophia arrive.

“Chad, you bastard! Why did I ever give you my spare key?” Jared shakes his head, laughing.

“Because you’re madly in love with me and you were hoping I’d take it as a sign to move in,” his best friend answers.

Jared rolls his eyes so hard that he almost sprains something. “Yeah, that must be it.” He drops to one knee next to the couch where Chad is sitting. “Marry me, Mayhem. Let’s adopt Chinese babies together.”

Chad reaches out and drags Jared’s head forward, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips before shoving him backwards and off balance so Jared sprawls across the living room rug. “Bitch, please. I am _so_ too good for you,” he says, and they both crack up.

Someone clears their throat from the doorway. Jared twists his head around from his spot on the floor to see a seriously adorable guy looking from him to Chad like they’re hungry lions that might just eat him.

“Um, sorry, ‘scuse me,” he says, ducking his head and hiding his piercing blue eyes momentarily. “Is this the Safe Zone mentors’ meeting?”

Jared scrambles up from the floor, hastily dusting off his pants. “Yes, absolutely. Come in! I’m Jared Padalecki, lowly associate English professor and coordinator for the group. Welcome to the house of insanity.” He holds out his hand, and Shy Adorable Guy shakes it hesitantly.

“Misha Collins,” he offers. “I’m the new Constitutional Law professor.”

“Nice to meet you, Misha. I wish I could say we’re not usually like this, but, well, we are.” He grins in what he hopes is a winning manner and turns to the group to make introductions, and he finds Chad doing a fantastic impression of a fish trying to breath air. “So this is Chad. He’s a counselor with Student Health Services, not to mention my best friend. That probably proves I’ve got a masochistic streak.” He smirks at Chad, expecting a snappy comeback.

Instead, he watches in shock as Chad turns a delicate shade of pink and waves shyly. “Hi,” he says softly, studying his shoes.

Jared stares. “Um, Chad, you sick, buddy?”

“No, shut up,” Chad answers, still not looking up.

Jared shakes his head and moves on, determined to torture whatever it is out of Chad later. “Anyway, this is Sophia Bush.”

Sophia waves cheerily. “Women’s Studies,” she elaborates.

“And this is Samantha Ferris.”

“Call me Sam,” she says. “Theater. Performance Theory and Set Design. And token dyke.”

“Not anymore,” the girl next to her says, looking at Sam with what can only be called adoration.

“I’m sorry,” Jared says, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Danneel Harris,” the stunning redhead offers. “PhD candidate in chemistry and graduate RA.”

“And apparently Sam’s latest sweet young thing,” Chad interjects, apparently recovered from his mysterious speechlessness.

“Shut your mouth, Murray,” Sam warns, glaring.

“So.” Jared turns to Misha. “Did we scare you off yet?”

“Were you trying to?” Misha asks, laughing a little.

Jared claps him on the back. “Nah, just wanted to get the insanity out there in the open. Wouldn’t want you to join up without knowing what you’re getting into.”

Misha grins. “Well, consider me fairly warned, then.”

“All right, man! Welcome to Safe Zone.” Everyone settles down in a messy approximation of a circle and Jared gets down to business. “Okay, for our newbies and in case anybody needs a refresher, our primary mission is to mentor LGBT students or any student who’s struggling with issues of sexual orientation and gender identity.

“We offer a safe space for them to talk about what they’re going through without having to worry about a hostile reaction. And we use these shiny stickers—” he holds up a rainbow striped triangle with the letters SZ on it, “—to identify ourselves. We put them on our doors so students know where they can go when they need someone to talk to.

“We also try to help out the Rainbow Alliance with campus outreach and awareness activities like the Day of Silence and Pride Week. I’m the lucky son of a bitch who gets to be faculty advisor for the next generation of twinks, so if you’ve got a question about any of the above, I probably know the answer.

“So, it’s a new year, and we have a new crop of RAs to indoctrinate. I was going to handle the presentation myself, but since we’ve got an insider in our midst, Danneel, would you like to help out?”

“Sure thing, boss,” she says, grinning.

There’s not really a lot more business to deal with, so people fall to talking amongst themselves. Jared tries to draw Chad into conversation with Misha, but he ends up doing most of the talking while Chad answers direct questions in monosyllables. A few minutes later, Danneel pulls a magazine out of her bag.

“Breaking news in the Ackles scandal,” she declares gleefully.

Jared groans. “Oh, come on, haven’t we heard enough about this?”

For almost two months, the country has been following the scandal of country music star, Jensen Ackles. The singer was outed in a particularly ugly and public fashion—literally caught with his pants down at the CMA Music Festival in June. He’s been plastered across the tabloid covers ever since.

Jared thought it was finally dying down, but apparently, some particularly creative “reporter” has been able to drag another story out of it. Jared feels kind of sorry for the guy. He figures it can’t be easy being gay in Nashville, land of the macho and the manly.

Everybody else wants to discuss the latest juicy details, though, something about an “anonymous source close to the singer”— _yeah, sure_ —so he sits back and waits for it to blow over.

~*~

Jared was supposed to pick up chips and a two-liter. _One_ bag and _one_ bottle, a quick trip through the self-checkout, and then he’d be free of the retail hell that is Wal-Mart at 5:30 on a weekday. He wasn’t supposed to need a cart, so he didn’t get one.

Which doesn’t explain how he finds himself staggering up aisle seven balancing a Coke _and_ a Sprite, Tostitos, a jar each of mild and hot salsa and a jumbo variety pack of condoms. He’s got his cell phone wedged between his jaw and his shoulder, Chad’s voice in his ear.

“But, Jayman, you’re already there. Just grab some mild salsa—“

“Hot!” Sophia yells in the background.

“Mild!” Chad hollers back, not bothering to pull the phone away from his mouth. Jared winces.

“Broke my heart!” she counters.

“Oh my god, we only dated for two months!”

“Dude,” Jared breaks in, “I’ll just get both, okay?”

“He’s getting both!” Chad yells triumphantly. Then at a more bearable volume, he adds, “Thanks, man. My uncastrated balls thank you, too.”

Jared chuckles. “No problem.”

“He’s getting the Sprite, right?” Sophia shouts.

“Coke!”

Jared sighs heavily. “Coke _and_ Sprite. Got it.”

“Oh, and Adam called. Rainbow Alliance needs condoms for the activities fair.”

“Dude, Wal-Mart is five minutes away from campus. Am I really the only one capable of finding the enormous gray and blue building?”

“Aww, don’t be mean! They’re poor starving students.”

“The group has ridiculous amounts of funding. Any time they need money, they just start mumbling about homophobia, and the school coughs up a couple thousand.”

“So bill them!”

Jared shakes his head. “Fine, fine. Anything else? Because I am out of hands, and I’m hanging up on you in five, four—“

“Well, I’m a little low on lube—“

“ _No_. Chad, we are best friends, but there are _lines_.”

“Fine.”

“You are so not pouting because I won’t buy your _lube._ ”

“No.”

“You _are_! God, all right! I’m such a pushover. KY?”

“The warming kind?”

“File under ‘things I didn’t need to know.’” Jared scans the shelves and finds the right one, nudging it into the crook of his elbow. “All right. That’s it. I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, wait! What about—“

But Jared doesn’t wait to hear what else Chad can’t drive five minutes to buy himself. He lets the phone slide down his chest and manages to free a pinky to flip it closed.

He’s almost got his very interesting assortment of shopping balanced enough that he thinks he can make it to the registers when a solid weight slams into him, and he goes down, sprawled across the aisle surrounded by soda, snacks and condoms.

~*~

This is a bad idea. Jensen _knows_ this is a bad idea. Dohring has cautioned him about going out in public at _all_ , and Jensen is in complete agreement with him on this point.

But he is out of coffee. This is unacceptable. Jensen is fairly sure that the world will cease to turn on its axis if he does not have coffee, so here he is in Wal-Mart at 5:30 on a Wednesday. The aisles are crowded with mothers wrestling with toddlers, students fighting over fifty cent notebooks, and cube monkeys trying to squeeze in some after work shopping.

His pulse is up and the back of his neck is prickling, but he thinks it’s mostly his paranoia. Most of these people are too caught up in their own business to pay any attention to him. A couple of shoppers’ eyes have lingered that extra moment that means they recognize him, but nobody’s tried to approach yet.

He’s got his coffee, picked it out and ran it through the grinder without incident, when he remembers he’s out of lube. He’s pretty sure he knows what Dohring would say about buying _that_ at Wal-Mart, and more than likely the cashier will sell the story to some tabloid, but he’s cranky and caffeine deprived. It’s been _weeks_ of this hiding, and he’s already here, and fuck it. He mentally gives his agent the finger and heads across towards the pharmacy section.

Halfway there, he notices he’s acquired a skinny shadow with emo bangs and a cell phone. Serves him right. His agent obviously has the godlike omniscience to tell when Jensen is being disobedient, and Emo Boy is his punishment.

He considers abandoning his mission, but he’s nothing if not a stubborn bastard. He picks up his pace, trying to lose the kid in the crowd. No such luck, tenacious little parasite. Probably can’t wait to snap a picture and splash it all over his blog, Facebook, MySpace, whatever the hell else everybody’s plugged into these days.

By the time he makes it to the right aisle, he’s looking backwards more than forwards, contorting himself in a hopeless attempt to keep an eye on the kid while simultaneously avoiding giving him a clean shot for his camera phone. Oh, god, what if he gets a shot of Jensen reaching for the lube? This was such a bad idea. Why can’t he ever listen to his own better judgment?

The crowds are thinning out as he approaches the corner where they hide the unmentionables. Wouldn’t do to have Sam Walton rolling over in his grave because the lube and condoms are out in plain sight, after all. Jensen’s got a constant litany of _fuckfuckfuck_ running through his head.

He risks another glance over his shoulder and runs smack into what feels like a brick wall. It makes a really interesting squealy noise, though, so he has to conclude it’s not. Jensen whips his head around to find he has knocked down a giant. Goliath shakes shaggy brown hair out of his face and blinks in bewilderment.

And Jensen’s brain grinds to a halt. Correction, he has knocked down the hottest giant in existence. After a few seconds, his brain catches up, and he realizes he’s staring uselessly at the guy he just knocked on his ass in the middle of Wal-Mart.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, bending down and reaching for the guy’s scattered shopping. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pick himself up. “I’m—” He breaks off. “You’re Jensen Ackles,” he says, sounding stunned.

Jensen’s stomach drops. He sighs. No getting away from it now. “Yeah.”

“Wow, I, wow.” The guy laughs self-consciously. “I don’t really listen to your music. Sorry, is that bad to say? But, like, I saw what happened. That really sucks, man. Nobody should have to go through that.”

“Um, thanks?” Jensen is very confused.

“Yeah, not that my apology means anything, I mean, you don’t know me from Adam.” The guys is gathering chips and soda from where they’re scattered across the floor. Jensen notices a bottle of KY warming lube that’s rolled under the shelf near his foot. Moving before he can think better of it, he grabs it and shoves it in his jacket pocket. No _way_ is he getting his own now that the giant is babbling at him and obviously reads _way_ too many tabloids.

“I mean,” he continues, “It’s like a sickness in this country. The obsession with celebrity. Like they—you—are super-human or something.” He pauses and looks up through his bangs in a way that Jensen refuses to find adorable. “You’re not, right? Secretly Superman, I mean.” He grins impishly, and somehow Jensen can’t keep from grinning back.

“Nah,” he says, shifting uncomfortably. “Just plain old human like everybody else.”

The guy nods. “That’s what I thought. You know, I don’t normally pay attention to tabloid stories. Makes me feel kinda skeezy. But this—you—I couldn’t really help it. Felt personal somehow. I mean, being an out gay man isn’t easy, I can tell you. But I can’t even _imagine_ what it would be like for somebody like you with the whole world watching.”

“Um, yeah.” Jensen sort of floored by the easy way he says it. Says it’s not easy, but it must be a little bit because he’ll say it to a stranger in Wal-Mart. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward.

“I, god, I’m such a dork. I did my doctoral thesis on representations of the queer in mainstream literature. English Lit degree, so not quite tabloids, but it’s kind of the same idea, and wow. You are a rock star. What do you care about my doctoral thesis?”

“Country star,” Jensen corrects without thinking, promptly feeling like the biggest douchebag in the whole world. “And I’m not too good for the little people or anything.” He doesn’t know why he’s defending himself to this guy he doesn’t know and just happened to unfortunately knock down, except then the guy grins again.

“It’s been a long time since anybody’s called me little,” he says, his eyes glinting wickedly.

Jensen is prevented from saying something really awkward and embarrassing for the umpteenth time in five minutes when the guy’s attention shifts sharply to a point somewhere over Jensen’s shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it, Zac!” he says, commanding.

Jensen looks around to see Emo Boy guiltily shoving his cell phone into the pocket of his jeans.

“Sorry, Professor Padalecki,” he says, looking simultaneously chagrined and disappointed. He hovers for another second before shuffling off, shoulders hunched.

Jensen turns back to the guy, now his rescuer. “Wow, thanks, man.”

He shrugs. “No big deal. Like I said, obsession with celebrity. Zac was in my Queer Lit class last semester.”

“So you’re a professor?”

“Yep. Adjunct Professor of English Literature at Lowell University, if I’m trying to be impressive or something.”

“Pada what now?”

He pulls a face. “Padalecki. Don’t worry, no one can pronounce it. I’m Jared.”

The guy—Jared—offers his hand. Jensen takes it, shaking hesitantly. “This is usually the part where I would say ‘Jensen,’ but um, we kinda established that.”

Jared laughs. “Yeah, sorry. That’s gotta be awkard for you.”

“It really is.”

“So, uh, nice to meet you?” Jared seems suddenly unsure.

Jensen looks around at the couple of items still on the floor. He looks at Jared the Giant and thinks he might have a really good escape plan. “God, here, let me help you carry this stuff.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Least I can do after I nearly maimed you, right?”

Jared shrugs. “I guess. You don’t have to do that, but I ended up with a little more than I could carry, so I definitely wouldn’t mind the help.”

“You’ve got it, then.” Jensen grabs the jars of salsa and, wow, the giant variety pack of condoms. “Planning on an exciting weekend?”

He nearly kills himself right there when he hears it come out of his mouth. Jared turns slightly pink. “Oh, god, no. They’re for—I’m the faculty supervisor for the campus LGBT group. The activities fair is this week. It’s a promotional thing. Wow, that just doesn’t sound like it’s supposed to. It’s probably best if I stop trying to explain, huh?”

Jensen bites his lip to hold back a laugh. “Yeah, could be.”

“Okay. That’s all my stuff, now I just need to get off the floor.”

Jensen is a bit boggled that he’s spent several minutes on the floor of Wal-Mart with Jared. That just can’t be good. Definitely time to make a strategic retreat. He gathers his share of the stuff in one arm and offers his other hand to Jared to help him up. Jared takes it, and Jensen can’t help but notice that his hand, which isn’t particularly small, is dwarfed by Jared’s enormous _paw_.

“Thanks, man,” Jared says, moving towards the checkout.

Jensen does not at all hide behind him as he follows. He dumps Jared’s stuff at the self-checkout. “So,” he says, stalling, “It was nice to, uh, accidentally assault you.”

Jared laughs. “Yeah, nice to talk your ear off.”

“Right.” Jensen shifts his weight. “Well, see you around then.”

Jared nods. “It’s a small town.”

Jensen pays for his coffee and walks out the door. He does _not_ look back at Jared, which means Jared doesn’t _catch_ him looking back and fucking _wink_ at him. Nope. None of that happens.

Jensen is a fucking Jedi Master of denial.

~*~

When Jensen gets back to the shit hole apartment he’s calling home, Chris is camped out in front of his door. Okay, fine, the shit hole is actually a lovely one bedroom in a nice, residential neighborhood. Tomato, tomahto. The really important aspect is his best friend. Who is on his doorstep.

“What the hell are you doing here, Kane?”

“Nice to see you too, Ackles. I’ve been doing great, how ‘bout yourself? Since you’re so big on keeping in touch lately. But since you ask, I heard _from CMT_ that you’re sequestering yourself to work on material for a new album. Thought you might want some help.”

“Hope you didn’t have any trouble finding the place that I didn’t give you the address of.”

“Gabe was really accommodating,” Chris says with a wicked grin. “After I threatened to call his mother. You should give that manager of yours a raise. So efficient under pressure.”

At this point, Jensen knows he’d better cave before Chris has _his_ momma on the line, telling her some shit about him not eating. She’d be on the next plane out of Dallas, and—anyway, it’s not like he’s that upset that Chris is here. Being shut up alone in this apartment in this tiny town several state lines away from the closest real tex-mex food has kind of sucked ass.

“Like I need song writing help from you anyway, loser.”

“You’d be nothing without me, Jenny.”

“Don’t fucking call me Jenny, Christina.”

“Dude, open the door before your neighbors come out and take pictures to sell to the tabloids just out of spite.”

“Hold your horses.” He pauses. “And my coffee.” He thrusts the bag at Chris while he digs his keys out of his pocket and lets them inside.

Chris settles in like it’s his place instead of Jensen’s, sprawling on the couch.

“Bring me a beer, bitch,” he says.

“Get your own damn beer,” Jensen retorts.

“Now, what kind of a hostess are you?”

“The kind who thinks guests who put their dirty cowboy boots on the coffee table should get their own alcohol.”

“You know you love me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, thrusting a bottle roughly at Chris’ chest.

Chris grins. “Told ya.”

“What are you, five?”

“Nah, you wouldn’t give beer to a minor, Jenny. You’re too straight-laced.”

“What did I tell you about that Jenny shit?”

“Honey, if I haven’t stopped by now, I’m not gonna.”

Jensen shrugs. “I thought maybe fifteen years was the magic number.”

Chris laughs and shakes his head. They lapse into comfortable silence, nursing their beers. After a while, Chris leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and turning the bottle between his fingers.

“How you holding up, Jen?” he asks, teasing gone from his voice.

Jensen stiffens. He _really_ does not want to talk about this. “Fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Just a little vacation in scenic, small town Massachusetts.”

Chris sighs. “I know you’re the indestructible man and all, but you got outed all over every tabloid in this country and several others. You’ve been ignoring calls and e-mails from all your friends since that asshole Dohring shipped you up here. Steve’s convinced you either died or got abducted by aliens. Jason’s living on a couple of drunken text messages. And I had to shake down your manager for your address.”

He puts his beer down on the table deliberately.

“So cut the bullshit, Ackles. Tell me how you’re _really_ doing.”

Jensen grits his teeth. He hates this shit—talking about _feelings_ —and anyway, it’s not like things are that bad. He can handle it himself, no problem. But Chris is—Chris is Chris. They’ve known each other since freshman year of college, and he’s staring at Jensen with that look that says he’ll sit there and stare for as long as it takes Jensen to cave. Jensen might as well just give up now and save himself the stress.

“Kinda shitty, but dealing.”

“Jensen, people who are dealing return their friends’ calls.”

“Dohring gave me strict instructions to lay low.”

“Right. ’Cause your fucking best friend is going to go running to the press.” Chris’ lips twist bitterly in a way that looks utterly wrong on him, and Jensen feels a stab of guilt for being the cause of it.

“Sorry. I—sorry.” He doesn’t know how to explain. Not like Chris didn’t know he was into guys, but Jensen didn’t exactly do long confessional monologues about liking dick, either. He really prefers to think about it as little as possible, much less talk about it. As far as he’s concerned, it’s something that could ruin his career and is currently doing a bang up job of exactly that.

Despite overwhelming evidence, his manager still wants him to deny everything until the press pretends to believe it. What’s the point? Might as well just come clean and let the chips fall at this point. But Dohring was all, “Don’t sacrifice everything you’ve worked so hard for— _we’ve_ worked so hard for. One drunken mistake doesn’t mean you have to go all Carson Kressley on me. Just lay low until the worst blows over, and we’ll get you back on track, okay?”

And Jensen caved like he always did. It didn’t hurt that he was breathe-into-a-paper-bag terrified about what he’d done. The righteous anger that had led to him giving the paparazzi the middle finger while some twink sucked him off was gone before his hangover. So he let his agent ship him off to the middle of nowhere, to a town that’s barely heard of country music, to wait for Lindsay Lohan to do something that makes everyone forget about him and his preferences.

Chris sighs and picks up his beer again, taking a long pull. “Well, either way, dollface, I’m here now, and you’re not getting rid of me.”

Jensen grimaces. “Come on, man. Jenny wasn’t bad enough?”

Chris grins at him, cocky and annoying, and Jensen feels like maybe the level of general suck in his life is slightly down today. Score two points for tiny Oklahomans who don’t know how to mind their own damn business.

~*~

Chad is on his couch when Jared gets home, lugging four Wal-Mart bags. He thinks about bitching to keep up appearances, but this just can’t wait.

“Dude, you will never guess what happened at Wal-Mart!”

Chad looks up from the bag of cheese doodles he’s currently inhaling. “If it’s not bought my lube and two kinds of salsa, I probably don’t care.”

“Shut up. You care. _Jensen Ackles_ knocked me on my ass and then helped me pick up my stuff while I made a complete _idiot_ out of myself babbling about my dissertation and the culture of celebrity and god knows _what_ else.”

Jared dumps the bags on the couch next to Chad and plops down beside them, the better to bury his head in his hands.

Chad cracks up. “Yeah, right,” he says, barely managing to speak between bouts of hysterical laughter. “And I bet Patrick Dempsey was eating at the Caf at lunch. Did Orlando Bloom pump your gas?” He starts rummaging through the bags, still chuckling to himself.

Jared huffs. “I’m not kidding! He was there!”

Chad looks up from his search, indignation on his face. “Dude, you didn’t get my lube. If you think making up some bullshit story about Jensen Ackles showing up in Wal-Mart is going to get you off the hook for chickening out of getting my lube, you’ve got another thing coming!”

Jared frowns and peers into the nearest bag. “I totally got it. Despite the fact that you should just buy your own damn personal lubricants. And it’s true. Jensen Ackles is in our town, buying coffee at our Wal-Mart, okay?”

Chad raises an eyebrow. “It’s not here, Jay, and neither is he.”

“Why would I lie about this?”

Chad eyes him skeptically. “Because you’re a giant ball of crazy? I don’t know. But I do know there’s no way that happened.”

Jared sighs and gives up, throwing up his hands. “Fine, fine, you got me. I made it up. Now go to Wal-Mart and get your KY yourself, okay?”

Chad pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in an excellent imitation of a two-year-old. “Fine.”

They sit in silence for a minute until Jared decides it’s his turn to harass his best friend.

“So when are you going to ask Misha out?” he asks, grinning evilly.

“When—I—what?”

“Bitch, please. You think I missed how you went all monosyllabic when Blue Eyes walked in?” Chad makes some very gratifying vowel sounds, and Jared laughs. “So?”

“I don’t know! When the time is right!”

“Mr. Hit On Anything With Two Legs is waiting for the right time? What the fuck?”

“He’s—I don’t know. Different.”

“So be different. Ask him to dinner instead of a drunken hookup.”

Chad scowls. “Shut up.”

“If the shoe fits.”

“Whatever. I’ll ask him when I’m ready. Now grab a beer. The game’s on.”

“What game?”

“Any game. The shut up, Padalecki game.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. The game is on.”

~*~

Jared’s piled under paperwork. Seriously, he thinks he’s in danger of drowning in it. Wasn’t the technological revolution supposed to eliminate actual paper paperwork? He sighs heavily. Technology may move on, but the university requires everything filed in triplicate hard copy. And e-mailed. Oh, bitter irony.

He’s distracted from his internal rant by a knock on his doorframe. He looks up and frowns slightly. “Hi, Zac.”

Zac has the good grace to look embarrassed. “Hi, Professor Padalecki,” he says.

Jared shakes his head. “Come on, don’t make me feel old. How many times do I have to tell you, it’s Jared?”

Zac shrugs. “Sorry.”

Jared gestures towards the chairs on the other side of his desk. Both have seen better days, and it’s pretty much just your choice of which brand of uncomfortable you want. Zac perches on the edge of the one that will swallow you whole if you try to sit any further back than that.

Jared hastily piles his paperwork and essays waiting to be graded into haphazard piles to come back to later and shoves them aside. “So, what can I do for you, Zac?”

“Well, I’ve decided to major in English.”

Jared grins. “Good for you.”

Zac nods. “And I was hoping you would be my major advisor?”

Jared takes a breath. He hates being the bad guy, but. “That depends. Will your budding career as a paparazzo interfere with your studies?”

Zac’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “No. And it wasn’t even like that,” he says. “He was just _there_ , and he’s Jensen Ackles, and I just thought—“

“That you’d snap a couple of cell phone pictures and plaster them all over the internet?”

Zac bites his lip and looks down. “Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Don’t you think people have a right to their privacy, Zac?”

“Yeah?”

“So where does taking pictures of celebrities without their permission fit into that?”

“I guess it doesn’t.”

“Planning on doing it again?”

“What are the chances I’ll randomly run into a freshly outed rock star in Wal-Mart again?”

Jared fixes what he hopes is a stern look on his potential protégé.

Zac coughs and looks vaguely ashamed. “Okay, okay, I get it. If I ever see a famous person shopping for lube again, I’ll respect their privacy and not try to take pictures of them.”

Jared blinks. “You think he was shopping for lube?”

Zac quirks a small grin. “Or condoms.”

Belatedly, Jared realizes he’s sort of killed the impact of his stern lecture. He clears his throat. “So, now that we have that settled, I would be glad to be your advisor.”

~*~

Jensen yawns and stretches as he walks out of his bedroom. It's early, but for once, he feels like doing something other than burrowing under the covers and hiding until the evil sun goes away. He glances over at Chris, out cold and snoring to wake the dead on his couch, before shuffling into the kitchen to make coffee.  
  
He stares for a moment at his hard won bag of coffee and remembers long, long legs, shaggy hair, and smiling hazel eyes. Shaking his head to dispel the images, he pours the grounds into the filter and punches the on button. No sense dwelling; it's not like he'll ever see the guy again, anyway.  
  
Abruptly, Jensen decides it's a good morning to go for a run. He's been letting his fitness regimen slide, and that just won't do. He changes into his running clothes while he waits for the coffee to finish, and he hears the telltale hiss of steam that says it's ready just as he's about to pull his shoes on.  
  
He walks back into the living room, sneakers in hand, and notices that Chris hasn't stirred an inch. He grins evilly to himself and chucks a shoe at his friend. Chris starts and flails at his unseen attacker, nearly falling off the couch in the process. His hands find the shoe on his chest, and he blinks blearily across the room.

"What the hell?" he asks, affronted.  
  
Jensen shrugs happily. "Get up! We're going running."  
  
Chris runs a hand over his face. "Oh, _hell_ , no. You can go be one with nature or feel the burn or _whatever_ on your own. I'm going back to sleep." Then he hurls Jensen's shoe away in no particular direction, rolls over and does just that.  
  
Jensen frowns at him for a moment, then shrugs. He dumps a couple of sugars in his mug of sweet, black goodness, downs it quickly, then retrieves his shoes and heads out the door. He's not going to let Chris' lazy ass ruin his plans for the morning.  
  
The sun is warm on Jensen's face as he starts off down the sidewalk, setting a comfortable pace, but even in the last week of August, he can feel a hint of fall chill in the air. It reminds him that this is New England, not Texas or even Nashville, and that makes him just a little bit sad.  
  
Pretty soon, though, the endorphins kick in, and he's not thinking about anything but his feet pounding methodically on the pavement and the pleasant hum in his muscles. He runs out to the edge of the neighborhood, a couple of miles, give or take, and loops around to make his way back. He's maybe halfway back to the apartment when he hears a commotion around the corner he's about to turn. He pauses, listening. A dog barking and somebody yelling, "Harley! No, Harley, bad dog! Harley!"  
  
The next thing he knows, a huge beast of a dog comes barreling around the corner, ears flapping and tongue lolling. Jensen tries to step aside, but he's not quite fast enough, and the dog still sideswipes him hard, landing him on his ass in somebody's yard.

~*~

Jared tears around the corner, Sadie trotting calmly beside him like the good girl she is. "Harley, get back here! You come here right this instant, or I'm taking you back to the pound. Don't think I won't!"  
  
"You don't think a slap on the paw and community service would be more appropriate?"  
  
Jared stops short and turns to find Jensen Ackles picking himself up off the ground. He buries his face in the hand not holding Sadie's leash. "Oh, my god. I am _so_ sorry. He's just a giant puppy, I swear. He saw a squirrel, and that was it. Are you okay?"  
  
Jensen waves him off. "No big deal. No blood, no foul. Besides, serves me right for nearly killing you in Wal-Mart last night."  
  
Jared feels his cheeks heat up. "Oh. You remember that."  
  
Jensen gives him a strange look and speaks clearly, like he thinks Jared is a little slow. "Yeah, I remember that. It was about twelve hours ago."  
  
"I know." Jared sighs. "I was just hoping you were far too important to remember some guy who talked your ear off about things that are totally none of my business."

Jensen was obviously in the middle of a run, and it must be the exertion that's making his cheeks pink because there is no way Jensen Ackles is standing in front of Jared _blushing_. He opens his mouth to answer, but Harley chooses that moment to come bounding back, trailing his leash behind him.

To Jared’s surprise, instead of coming to him, Harley trots right up to Jensen and butts his head against his leg. He opens his mouth to call Harley away, but Jensen laughs and bends down to scratch behind his ears.

“You’re just scared to face the music, aren’t you?” he says as he pets him thoroughly. Harley closes his eyes and whines slightly, clearly in doggy heaven. Jensen looks up, and Jared is struck by the bright green eyes partially shielded by really unfairly long lashes. “You’re not really going to punish him, are you?”

Jared laughs. “Dude, no. I’m like the worst doggy parent ever. I’m always threatening to do stuff, and then they look at me with their sad brown eyes, and I give them treats instead. They’re so spoiled. Sadie’s a good girl, though.” He looks down at her. “Aren’t you, baby? Yes, you are.” He realizes he’s baby talking to his dog in front of an insanely gorgeous man who also happens to be a rock— _country_ star and clears his throat. “So, um. Out for a jog?”

Jensen smiles up at him, and it’s different from the way Jared’s seen him smile before. It’s clear and honest and reaches his eyes and is—Jared swallows hard—really, really hot actually.

“Yeah,” Jensen says, standing up, “Hence the workout gear.” He gestures at himself vaguely. And, oh, Jared had been trying to ignore how good he looks in those basketball shorts and the thin, gray t-shirt that clings to his torso almost obscenely. His hair is spiked with sweat, and there are freckles across his nose, and Jared is _screwed_.

“Right,” Jared says, feeling like an idiot. “Well, um, I guess I should—” He gestures vaguely past Jensen to indicate continuing his walk.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?” Jensen asks. The words practically trip over each other, he says it so fast.

Jared stops and stares. “What?”

Jensen bites his lip and looks down. “Never mind. Forget I said anything,” he mumbles at his shoes.

“Wait, no! I mean yes. Yes, absolutely! I mean—really?”

Jensen looks up at him, still seeming unsure, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, really,” he says. “So, yes? Really?”

Jared can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. “Yes, really.”

Jensen grins back at him. “How’s Friday?”

“Tomorrow Friday?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot. Is that too soon?”

Jared shakes his head. “No. Tomorrow’s perfect.”

They agree on meeting at eight. Jensen doesn’t have his phone on him, so Jared fishes his out of his pocket and programs Jensen’s number in. He’d be lying if he didn’t have a fleeting thought about how much he could sell that for and how Jensen should be more careful. He could be a stalker. He’s not, but—Jared forcibly shuts his brain up. He’s got a date with probably the most gorgeous guy he’s ever seen up close. Life is _good_

“So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when the arrangements are made.

“Yeah, tomorrow,” Jensen echoes. “Maybe this time nobody will knock anybody over.”

Jared laughs. “Yeah, let’s hope. Okay. Well. See ya.” He waves, feeling retarded.

A few steps down the street, Jared can’t resist sneaking a look over his shoulder, and he feels a stupid little thrill when he finds Jensen looking back, too. Jensen ducks his head in embarrassment, then glances back up, smiling and shrugging slightly. Jared grins back at him until Sadie and Harley tug impatiently on their leashes and he has to look away or risk getting dragged down the street.

~*~

Jensen bounces back into the apartment with a stupid smile on his face. Chris is awake now, nursing a cup of coffee. He looks up, still bleary-eyed, when Jensen comes in.  
  
"Who hit you with the perky stick?" he demands, scowling like the very idea of happiness offends him on a fundamental level.  
  
Jensen doesn't care. Jensen is in a good mood, and Chris is going to get happy right the fuck now. "I have a date," he blurts out, bouncing up slightly on his toes.  
  
Chris blinks. "With a woman?" he asks.  
  
Jensen shakes his head. "Nope."  
  
Chris stares at him hard for a moment. "You have a date with a guy?"  
  
Jensen nods, feeling that stupid grin creep up again.  
  
Chris looks down at his coffee like it holds the secret of life. He takes a long sip and sets his mug back down deliberately. "Let me get this straight," he says, and it sounds like he's making a concerted effort to remain calm. Jensen knows that voice. It never means anything good. "You went out for a run and came back with a date?"  
  
"Yes," Jensen says, shifting back and forth on his feet as uncertainty sets in.  
  
"Do you know the guy?"  
  
Jensen bites his lip. "I knocked him down in Wal-Mart last night," he tries.  
  
Uh oh. Chris is standing up and moving away from the coffee. This is worse than he thought.  
  
"Jensen. Really? I thought you knew better than this. You set up a date with some guy you've known for less than twenty-four hours? What do you even know about him?"  
  
Jensen shrugs. "He's a professor at the university. He has dogs. He stopped some punk kid from taking a picture of me."  
  
Chris shakes his head. "He could still be a stalker, Jensen. An obsessed fan or a blogger looking for his next big story. You have no idea."  
  
"Oh, come on, Chris. This is _Massachusetts_. Even you had a hard time finding me. I really don't think the fansites have caught on." He's not saying Chris doesn't have a point. It _is_ an insanely risky thing to do. He doesn't know what's gotten into him, really. But on the other hand, Chris hasn't met Jared. He's pretty sure nobody could geek out that hard if they weren't actually an academic.  
  
Chris stares at him mulishly. "Still, it's a little bit crazy." Jensen shrugs apologetically. "He must be _really_ hot."  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
"Since when do you go on _dates_ anyway?"  
  
"Since now?"  
  
Chris is still scowling, but Jensen thinks he's softening.  
  
"Whatever, Jennifer. I'm coming with you, though."  
  
Jensen gapes. Chris can't be serious. "You are _not_ chaperoning my date."  
  
"Relax, I just want to meet him, talk to him for a minute, see if I'm getting any crazy stalker vibes. Then you kids can go off and talk dirty all night long for all I care."  
  
"You're not my dad, Chris. And I'm not a seventeen-year-old on my way to prom."  
  
"Nope. But it _is_ my job to make sure you don't do stupid shit like go on dates with strangers who haven't been vetted."  
  
Jensen throws up his hands, knowing he's not going to win this one. "Fine, fine. You can give him the third degree, but when he goes running because you're a scary-ass son of a bitch, I _am_ holding you responsible."  
  
Chris grins in a thoroughly unsettling manner. "Aw, cuddlebear, if he really likes you, he'll stick around."  
  
Jensen glares. "I'm going to take a shower. If there is _any_ evil cackling or rubbing together of hands in my absence, I _will_ know." He eyes Chris warningly.  
  
Chris just waggles his fingers at him, still grinning.  
  
Jensen gives up and stalks into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him with somewhat more force than necessary.

~*~

Jared's closet has exploded, and the debris contains absolutely nothing suitable for wearing on a date. He knows because he's put it all on in every possible combination. As if this crisis situation weren't bad enough, Chad is sitting in the middle of the chaos mocking him. He came over when Jared told him he had a date with a hot guy—no names mentioned—but he’s being the opposite of helpful.

"I hate you," Jared tells him seriously.

Chad just laughs again, wiping tears away from the corners of his stupid, squinty eyes. "Dude. I tried to warn you about your unfortunate love of pink shirts with weird prints, but did you listen? No. And now, you are reaping your just desserts."

Jared sighs. "Must you butcher the English language while you mock me?"

"Absolutely! It makes you make that face. Comedy gold, man."

"I'm so glad my pain amuses you."

Chad grins at him. "You're a giver. And the next thing you should do is box up all this crap and give it to Goodwill."

Jared scowls, and Chad laughs. Again. Jared flips open his phone and punches six on the speed dial, waiting impatiently until Sophia picks up. "Soph! I have a date, and I don't know what to wear, and Chad's being mean to me! Come beat him up and tell me what to wear!" He is not encouraged when she laughs. "Sophia! Help me!"

"Okay, okay, sweetie, calm down. I'll be right over, all right?"

He huffs. "Okay." He is thirty years old, and he is not in any way pouting.

It takes Sophia ten minutes to get there, during which Jared glares with equal heat at Chad and his clothes.

Sophia comes in like a tiny, well-groomed cyclone. She takes in the situation quickly.

"Okay, heartbreaker! Up and out."

Chad splutters. "What? I'm helping!"

"You're being a jackass. Move it." When Chad shows no signs of leaving, she grabs his sleeve and tugs. "Now!"

"All right, all right, I'm going. Jesus."

Chad bitches loudly all the way down the stairs and out the door, but he goes. Jared knows he's too terrified of Sophia to try to cross her.

Once she's satisfied that Chad is really gone, she turns to Jared. "Okay, sweetie. Just take a breath, calm down, and tell me what's going on."

Jared gestures around in despair. "I have nothing to wear!"

Sophia bites her lip, obviously fighting a smile. “Clearly.”

“You know what I mean!” he says, just barely stopping himself from stamping his foot. “This is all—it’s all _professor_ stuff.”

“Well, you are a professor, Jared.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to _look_ like one!”

“So, what do you want to look like?”

“A guy who has any business dating a rock star!”

She stares at him in confusion. “A what? Um. Why?”

Jared considers. He didn't try to convince Chad again after the first disastrous attempt, but Sophia's not Chad. He takes a deep breath. “My date? The one in two hours?”

Sophia nods. “Yes?”

“It’s—it’s, um.” He almost chickens out right there, but he forces the words out. “Imgoingoutwithjensenackles.”

She blinks. “One more time, honey. With breathing this time.”

“I have a date with Jensen Ackles.”

“You’re shitting me, right? Jensen Ackles. Recently outed country singer?”

“That’s the one.”

“Jared. April Fools isn’t for seven months. You know that, right?”

“I’m not kidding, I swear! He’s here in our town. He knocked me down in Wal-Mart on Wednesday night. Then yesterday morning, Harley ran into him when I took the kids out for their walk. And he asked me out.”

Jared’s gearing up for another round of skepticism and convincing, but Sophia just looks at him hard long enough that he starts to fidget under her gaze. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but she seems to find it. She nods briskly, suddenly all business.

“You can’t go on a date with a celebrity unless you look absolutely fabulous. I’m sure we can find _something_ ,” she says, but her dismayed survey of his wardrobe says she’s not so sure.

Sophia sorts through the wreckage with terrifying efficiency. He can't help but notice that any and all pink shirts are getting tossed into a pile in the corner and it doesn't seem to be a pile that she approves of.  
  
"No pink?" he ventures.  
  
She levels a severe look at him. "No pink. Not tonight, anyway."  
  
She continues her quest, holding up seemingly endless combinations of shirts and pants until she finally comes up with something that has her nodding in approval.  
  
"This is it. Grab your iron." She's holding a pair of slate gray, flat front trousers and a button-down he's only worn a couple of times. It's black with a textured stripe and a bold silver and white airbrushed design over one shoulder.  
  
"Are you sure?" he asks. "It's not too—?"  
  
She shakes her head. "It's not too anything, I promise. It's perfect."  
  
"Okay," he says, still eyeing it skeptically.  
  
"Or I could leave and you could try to pick something else yourself," she says, taking a step toward the door."  
  
He throws out a hand in panic. "No! It's perfect. I believe you."  
  
She gives a small nod. "All right, then. Iron?"  
  
She stays until he's ironed and dressed. Looking in the mirror, Jared has to admit she's right about the outfit.  
  
"Of course I am. Now come here." She gestures for him to bend down and gives his hair a last tousle. "Perfect. Now go get laid."  
  
"Sophia!"  
  
"What? Isn't that the general idea?"  
  
"It's a first date," he mutters.  
  
She laughs and looks at him fondly. "Baby, you're adorable. If he doesn't fall for you in five minutes, there's something wrong with him."  
  
"Thanks, Soph."  
  
"Any time. I've got enough fabulous to go around." She winks at him as she walks out the door.

~*~

Jared is not nervous at all standing outside of Jensen’s apartment building. Why would he be nervous? It’s just a date. He dates. Sometimes.

He pushes the buzzer. After a moment, a voice comes over the speaker.

“Yeah?”

“It’s, um, it’s Jared.”

“Right, come on up!”

The door clicks open, and Jared makes his way to the third floor. He takes a steadying breath before he knocks on Jensen’s door. It sounds confident, if knocks can be said to have personalities. That’s good.

Jensen opens the door looking absolutely delicious. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that fit him like a second skin and an olive green t-shirt with “Sons of Bill” emblazoned on the front. The color brings out his eyes, which are bright behind wire-rimmed glasses, and wow, that shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“Hi,” Jensen says, giving him a shy grin.

“Hi.”

“Come in, I’ve just got to put my contacts in.”

Jared swallows down a protest as he follows Jensen inside. He’s surprised to see another guy there. He’s a few inches shorter than Jensen with brown hair that brushes his shoulders and bright blue eyes that are sizing Jared in up in a somewhat alarming fashion.

“Jared, this is my friend, Chris. Chris, Jared.” Jensen gestures between them. “I’ll be _right_ back. Chris, be nice.”

“I’m always nice, Jennyboy,” Chris says.

Jensen eyes him skeptically for a moment before disappearing into what Jared assumes is the bedroom. He wonders if he should be scared. When Chris rounds on him, a purposeful gleam in his eyes, he figures he should.

"Do you listen to country music?" Chris asks.

"Well, I _was_ raised in Texas. It's kind of unavoidable," Jared answers.

"Do you own any of Jensen's albums?"

"Um, no. Is that bad?"

"I'm asking the questions,” Chris snaps. “Are you aware of the recent tabloid coverage of Jensen's personal life?"

Jared raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, I don't live under a rock. Occasionally, I go to the grocery store and buy food. It's kind of hard to miss."

Chris looks like he doesn’t think much of that answer. "How did you meet Jensen?"

"He knocked me over in Wal-Mart?"

Chris snorts. "A likely story."

"It's true. Do you _talk_ to your friend?"

Chris acts like he hasn't even spoken. "Are you now or have you ever been a registered member of any of the following websites? JensenAcklesFan.org, Maniackles.com, JensenAcklesIsMyGod.net, or CountryGoneWild.com."

"Um, no? Are those real websites?"

"Tragically, yes. What do you want with Jensen?"

"Right now? Dinner, maybe a movie, maybe stuff that isn't any of your business."

"Jensen _is_ my business."

Jared's starting to get a little tired of the guard dog routine. He gets it. Jensen isn't like regular people, but he isn't a crazy fan. He rubs his temples. "Look, would it make you feel better if I showed you my article on the cult of celebrity? It’s in the summer issue of—some really pretentious academic quarterly. I’ll get you a copy.”

Chris narrows his eyes. "Depends. What's your position on it?"

Just as Jared is about to throw up his hands and give up, Jensen comes back into the room. He seems to grasp the situation instantly.

“Chris, that’s enough.”

“I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You were trying to scare him off!”

Chris stares at the ground mulishly. “Only if he’s a psycho stalker.”

Jensen buries his face in his hands. “I’m never talking to you again. You’re dead to me. Come on, Jared, let’s go.”

“You love me!”

“Dead to me!” Jensen calls over his shoulders as he shoves Jared out the door. Jared is more than happy to get away from the Spanish Inquisition, and maybe a little happy to let Jensen push him around, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Jensen is going to kill Chris. He doesn’t need a best friend that bad. Hell, he’s a celebrity. He can hire one. Or do a reality show. Yeah, that sounds good. Twelve guys competing to be the awesomest best friend ever. None of _them_ would ever grill the hot guy Jensen is trying to go out with. Solid plan.

Jared picked the restaurant. It only makes sense, since it’s his town and all. It’s a cozy, mom and pop looking place with charmingly mismatched tables and chairs and lots of inviting corners.

“Hey, Annie,” Jared greets the hostess. “Two?”

Annie’s eyes widen slightly when she sees who Jared’s with, but to her credit, she covers her surprise quickly, grabs two menus, and shows them to a table in a nook partially obscured by a large plant. Jared smiles at her gratefully. “Thanks,” he says, giving the word a little extra weight.

Once they’re seated, Jared rests his forearms on either side of his closed menu. He must come here a _lot_. Jensen flips his open, scanning it. “So,” he asks, “what’s good?”

“Everything,” Jared says.

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Thanks, that’s really helpful.”

Jared laughs. “Sorry, it’s totally true, though. What do you like?”

Jensen shrugs. “Anything.”

“Now who’s being unhelpful?”

“Burgers?”

“Oh, they do a great one here.”

Jensen takes Jared’s advice and orders a burger. Jared orders half the menu. Jensen stares. “Where are you gonna put all that?”

Jared turns a little pink and grins. “I’m a growing boy,” he says.

Jensen blinks. “I _hope_ not. Jesus, aren’t you tall enough?”

Jared sticks his tongue out at Jensen, and who _does_ that past the age of nine, but it’s maybe the most adorably dorky thing Jensen’s ever seen. Unfortunately, he doesn’t know what the appropriate response is, and they lapse into silence. He looks down, suddenly feeling awkward again.

“So, um, I’m really sorry about Chris,” he says because he’s been meaning to say that.

Jared shakes his head. “It’s cool, man. He must really care about you a lot.”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, I guess he does. I still plan to kill him slowly, though.”

There’s silence again, and Jensen tries desperately to think of something to say. God, if he’d known dating was this awkward, he would have kept not doing it. He’s got words. He knows he does. He seizes on the first topic that flits through his mind like it's a life preserver.

“So,” he starts. “You’re a professor?” And boy, that sounded less lame in his head, but it’s a start.

Jared nods. “Yeah. This is my third year.”

“What’s your subject?”

“English,” Jared answers, “with a concentration in Queer Lit and Victorian Lit.”

Shit. What does Jensen know about academia? He’s got a bachelor’s, sure, but he really didn’t spend a hell of a lot of time studying, and that was more than a decade ago. Mostly, he was working on his songwriting and booking gigs. All things considered, that was a good choice, but it leaves him with no idea what to say to someone who liked college enough they decided to stay _forever._  
  
“Oh. That’s—” He casts about. “That’s cool.”

Jared grins. “It’s okay. I know it’s kind of obscure and weird. I don’t expect normal people to know what I’m babbling about when I get off on one of my rambles. Which I do, and please feel free to shut me up if I get off on a tangent about the Brontes and sexual taboos or something.”

“Um, okay?” Jensen knows Jared said other stuff, but he’s kind of stuck on _normal people_. It’s been a really long time since someone called him normal. It’s kind of nice, actually.

“So,” Jared says. “You’re a musician?” He smirks at Jensen.

Jensen rolls his eyes back. “Yeah, something like that.”

“How’s that going for you?”

“Not bad, not bad. I’ve got a few albums out. Toured a couple of times. It pays the bills.”

Jared grins, then looks away again, seeming nervous. “So I feel bad saying this. I hope you’re not offended, but.” He pauses.

“But?” Jensen prompts.

“Um, I’ve never really listened to your music?” He winces like he’s waiting for a blow.

Jensen laughs. “Is that all? Dude, that’s more like a relief.”

“Really?” Jared says, looking hopeful.

“Promise. Anyway, this is Massachusetts. Not exactly the country music capital of the world.”

Jared bites his lip. “Well, I’m from Texas originally.”

Jensen can feel his face light up. “Really? What part?”

“San Antonio.”

Jensen nods. “That’s awesome. Dallas,” he says, gesturing to himself. “Or, well, Richardson, actually.”

“Well, what do you know?” Jared says. “We have something in common after all.”

Jensen grins at him. They trade Texas stories for a little while until the food arrives. For a little while after that, they’re occupied with eating, and the conversation lags again.

“So how long have you been in town?” Jared asks.

Jensen shrugs. “Since my agent shipped me up here to hide a couple of days after the story broke.”

“Wow, so you’ve been, what? Hiding in your apartment for two months?”

“Um, I guess,” Jensen says, feeling uncomfortable. He’s not really sure where Jared’s going with this.

Jared seems to pick up on it, though. His eyes widen. “Oh, shit, sorry. That was really—sorry. My brain to mouth filter is kind of non-existent.”

Jensen shakes his head, still kind of weirded out, but willing to let it go. “It’s okay.”

Jared nods, biting his lip and looking relieved.

Jensen jumps in before another excruciating silence can set in. “So, what do you like to do? You know, when you’re not teaching?”

Jared’s eyes light up. “Well, I’m the faculty advisor for Rainbow Alliance, the campus LGBT group. I think I said that the other night? Not that I expect you to remember all the stuff I said in Wal-Mart.”

“I remember,” Jensen says.

Jared grins and picks up the thread of conversation. “Honestly, they don’t need a whole lot of advising, but they’re great kids. Really active in the community. Mostly, they hit me up to get them stuff because a lot of them don’t have cars, and it’s hard to get anywhere off campus. The condoms really were for them, I swear. If you were wondering. Not that you were wondering about my prophylactic needs. Oh, god, I’m doing it again.” Jared stops, looking mortified, and Jensen just has to help him out.

“I was, actually,” he admits, “I mean, the jumbo variety pack?”

Jared laughs. “Yeah, that was for the activities fair. They give them out to promote safe sex. And maybe give the impression that the club is full of potentially slutty people? I’m not really sure. Mostly the safe sex thing.”

Jared pauses and takes a long sip of his drink, but Jensen doesn’t really have anything to contribute, so he just lets Jared keep going.

“Most of the time, though, there’s this group of faculty and staff I hang out with. We call ourselves Safe Zone. It’s people who are LGBT friendly. We have these stickers we put on our doors,” Jared runs a hand through his hair, “God, that sounds stupid, but it’s so any student who’s having sexual orientation issues. Questions, concerns, whatever. They know there’s someone they can talk to that won’t judge them.”

Jared pauses and laughs a little. “And, you know, when we’re not being model citizens, we hang out and drink. Kind of a lot.”

Jensen is taken aback. He leans against the back of his chair and stares for a moment. Jared is—well, he doesn’t quite know what Jared is, but he’s definitely never met anyone like him. And he’s not entirely sure Jared’s speaking English anymore.

“Wow,” he says, nodding slightly. “You’re, uh. You’re really into this gay thing, aren’t you?”

Jared blinks, looking stunned. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This _gay thing_?”

Jensen gets the feeling he has said something very wrong. “Um?”

“If you mean fighting for the civil rights of an oppressed minority of which I am a part and raising awareness of the needs of the community, then yes. I am really into _this gay thing._ ”

Boy, Jensen always thought ‘dripping scorn’ was a slightly overblown metaphor, but Jared’s voice is definitely doing it now. Jensen’s kind of scared of him, floppy hair and dimples aside. He grabs his napkin and starts tearing strips off of it, carefully not looking at anything else.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t mean— sorry.”

Jared sighs. “It’s okay,” he says, but he doesn’t sound like he particularly means it, “I just figured you’d care more than anybody. I mean, with the pressure that heteronormative society puts on celebrities so you’re told you can’t be yourself and be successful. Right?”

“The what?” Jensen shakes his head. He is so lost and starting to be a little offended. _He’s_ the one who chose this life, this career. He’s really lucky to be as successful as he is. He knows that. And staying that way takes sacrifice. That’s just the way it is. “Look, I don’t—I’m not.” The walls feel too close, and Jensen is suddenly too hot. “I’m not gay, okay?”

“Are you bi?”

“No! I’m—no.”

Jared stares at him hard, and he draws back at the scrutiny.

“So are you or are you not on a date with a man?”

“Yes?”

“Uh huh.” Jared nods. “And you’re attracted to men? Sexually?”

Jensen can feel his face heat up. “Yeah,” he answers, choking it out.

“What about women?”

Jensen feels like his throat is clogged, and he clenches his jaw hard. He just sits there for a long moment, staring at the table. Finally, he chances a glance up at Jared. Strangely enough, Jared’s not looking angry or accusing anymore, just openly curious. Jensen shakes his head slowly.

Jared nods like he’s figured something out. Jensen wishes he knew what it was.

“You wanna get out of here?” Jared asks, signaling for the check.

Jensen nods emphatically. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Jared pays, which is kind of chivalrous but also kind of ridiculous, considering Jensen could buy the restaurant if he wanted. He doesn’t protest, though.

On the way back to Jensen’s apartment, they make sporadic, innocuous small talk, nothing more controversial than the weather. When they pull up outside, Jared looks over at him.

“Walk you to your door?” he asks, sounding contrite and hopeful.

Jensen looks into those puppy eyes and can’t say no. Not that he even wants to. He’s confused as hell. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with dating, but even he knows tonight did not precisely go well. But there’s something about Jared he just can’t shake. He hopes it’s just the blinding hotness. Anything else is… disturbing.

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen says, and there go the dimples again.

They make their way up to the third floor and then stand and fidget awkwardly outside Jensen’s door.

“So,” Jensen says.

“So,” Jared answers.

“I, um.” Jensen rubs the back of his neck, trying to put words together. “This wasn’t really how I pictured this going.”

Jared chuckles a little. “Yeah, me either,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen tries. “About what I said. I just—I don’t talk about this stuff.”

“I’m getting that,” Jared says. “It’s okay.”

“Really? Or are you just saying that to be nice?”

“Really,” Jared says emphatically enough that Jensen believes him.

“Okay, then,” Jensen says, feeling relief wash over him. “Okay.”

He grins and then is utterly shocked when Jared leans in and kisses him. Of course, since he’s smiling, Jared mostly connects with his teeth, and that’s awkward, and the angle’s kind of weird, and it’s generally not quite right.

Jared pulls back, but Jensen follows, catching his lips before he gets more than an inch away. He’s not grinning anymore, and this time their lips slide together just perfectly. It’s soft and warm and slow. Jensen moans just a little and sways closer to Jared.

Jared makes a desperate little sound and drags Jensen in by the hips. Jensen abandons all caution and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Jared’s ridiculous, wonderful hair, and now they’re making out in earnest with tongues and the good kind of teeth and bodies pressed together.

This is good. This Jensen understands. Physical need and bodies melting together. No more talking about things that make him deeply uncomfortable. It’s not long before making out is moving towards something heavier that doesn’t belong in a public hallway. Jensen makes himself pull back.

“Do you want to come inside? I’ll kick Chris out.”

Jared blinks at him uncomprehendingly for a moment. Then he shakes his head, seeming to come back to himself.

“I’d better not,” he says.

“Oh,” Jensen says, a sharp stab of disappointment stabbing through him. “I thought—”

Jared shakes his head. “Oh, no! I mean, yes. I mean—” He runs a hand roughly through his hair. “I mean, what you were thinking is what you should have been thinking. I just. Don’t usually do this.”

Jensen is confused. “Do what?” he asks.

“Um.” Jared glances away, cheeks pink. “This. I mean, on a first date.”

“What, kissing?”

“Well, kissing like that. Yeah.”

Jensen processes this. Apparently, Jared is a nice boy who takes things slow. “Oh,” he says. “Well, okay. Have a good night, then?”

Jared smiles gratefully at him. “Thanks, yeah. You too. Can I—I was hoping we could do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Jensen says, and he thinks he really would. Not just for the prospect of getting laid, either, which is strange and new.

“Okay, good. Great.”

Jared leans in and kisses him one more time, and it is just plain _unfair_ the way he drags at Jensen’s lower lip with his teeth as he pulls back. It goes straight to Jensen's cock, and he already _knows_ he’s not getting any. It is so not his fault if a tiny whimper escapes him at that point.

Jared’s grinning at him like he knows what he did. “Night, Jensen,” he says.

Jensen just can’t help grinning back, evil cocktease or not. “Night, Jared.”

~*~

“How was your date?” Chris asks as Jensen walks in the door.

“Where’s the whiskey?” he answers.

“That bad, huh?”

Jensen takes a breath, then another one. “I think I’m gay,” he says, and boy, that was not what he was expecting to come out of his mouth.

Chris stares at him for a long moment, then throws his head back and hollers, “Praise Jesus! The boy can be taught!”

Jensen glares. It’s not like he didn’t think—he knew he liked guys. That part is easy. Cock does it for him, tits don’t. But _gay_ , that’s something else. That’s limp wrists and glitter and techno and drag queens and something country singers and good ‘ol boys from Texas never ever are. So Jensen isn’t that—couldn’t be that. Not that there’s anything wrong with it—for other people—it’s just not him.

Except Jared didn’t talk about any of that. Jared just asked him if he liked guys. He does, and that seemed to answer the question for Jared. So if that’s all there is to being gay, then Jensen is, and that makes him feel kind of lightheaded and terrified. It must show on his face because Chris is suddenly looking concerned.

“Whoa, hey. I know it’s a big revelation. Sit down, sugar. I’ll find the liquor.”

Jensen collapses on the couch, marveling at how Chris can’t quit the stupid pet names even in times of crisis. An impressively full glass of Jack appears under his nose. He takes it and swallows down about half, relishing the harsh burn. It clears his head, and he feels better almost immediately.

“Now tell Uncle Chris. Does he make you feel funny in your special place?”

“I hate you.”

“Liar,” Chris tosses back. “But seriously. I have been trying to tell you you’re gay for _years_. You come back from _one date_ with the professor, and suddenly you’re ready to march in the pride parade?”

“Hey, that’s not what I said.”

“What did he say to you?”

Jensen stares into his glass. “He asked if guys turned me on.”

“That’s it?” Chris sounds incredulous.

“Yeah?”

Chris slaps his forehead hard. “I give up,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Obviously, _Jared_ has some magic gay pixie dust or something.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right. I’m really glad you finally came to terms with this. Doesn’t matter why.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, man,” Chris says, perking up again instantly. “Let’s call Steve!”

“What? Why?”

“Trust me. He’s gonna want to hear about this.”

~*~

Jensen wakes up with his head buried in Chris’ lap. Chris’ lap is still fully clothed, and that’s a plus. After all, they only hooked up the once, drunk at the frat party where they met. Of course, they’d been pretty drunk last night.

He tries to sift through his memories. Lots of shots. He definitely remembers that. After a strangely awkward conversation with Steve. Steve is—well, they fuck sometimes. Used to do it a lot more back in college and a few years afterwards, but they still do sometimes. Friends with benefits would be the term, Jensen guesses.

He always had a sense there was something a little sideways about their relationship, but he never stopped to examine it. Jensen always figured as long as everybody was having fun, why question it? But the way Steve had sounded almost pained when he told Jensen he was happy for him makes him think maybe he should have.

Then they hung up, and Chris awkwardly avoided his eyes for a minute before declaring that shots were in order. Jensen’s always been good at denial, and he had more than enough revelations for one night, so he didn’t ask. And then the guitars came out, and they did something that seemed brilliant at the time, if only Jensen could remember.

Jensen doesn’t know how he’s managing to form all these thoughts with his brain making a valiant attempt to escape his skull. Jesus fuck, but he should know better than to let Chris be in charge of the liquor after all these years. It just never ends well.

The pounding in his head is impressive enough that he hasn’t managed to move his head yet. He tries to lift it a couple of times, thinking about coffee and aspirin, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t actually move. He starts to feel a little more conscious and that’s when a disconnected memory surfaces, his voice blending with Chris’ drunkenly.

_You can get anything at Wal-Mart._

This time he moves for real, levering himself upright with far too much effort. “Fuck, Chris.” He shakes his friend’s shoulder, and Chris groans but doesn’t open his eyes. Jensen shakes him harder. “Chris. Wake up, goddammit!”

“What?” Chris moans, sounding pained. “Can’t it wait?”

“No!”

“What the fuck is it, Jen?”

“We ripped off Dylan!”

Chris’ eyes snap open. “Fuck.”

~*~

"Babylon Bowling, people! Let's go!" Chad crows as they walk across the parking lot. "Who's got the poppers?"  
  
Jared shakes his head in despair. "Chad, we are not characters on Queer As Folk, and the bowling alley is not a gay club. No matter how much you wish it was."  
  
Chad is unfazed. "Then what's with the techno and the black lights, huh?"  
  
"Maybe they're tragically unaware of the culture they're emulating," Misha suggests from Jared's other side.  
  
Chad turns pink and clams up. If Jared were a worse friend, he _might_ enjoy the way Misha's presence can turn Chad mute. Of course, Jared is the best best friend in the world and does not take pleasure in his friend's pain.  
  
Danneel cuts in. "Hey, they bowled on Queer as Folk,"  
  
"Yeah, but none of these losers is Brian Kinney, no matter how hard they try. Let's bowl, bitches!" Sophia says, ending the discussion as they walk through the doors and into the bowling alley that really kind of does resemble a gay dance club.

The music is deafening, and the place is lit up with black lights and multi-colored neon. They shout their shoe sizes at the girl behind the counter and grab a couple of pitchers of beer.

Once they claim a lane, they split up into teams of three, Sam, Danneel, and Sophia against Jared, Chad, and Misha. While Chad is making a ten minute production out of his turn, Jared wanders over and plunks himself down in the empty seat next to Sophia.

“I think I might be an asshole,” he says. He has to almost shout to be heard over the music.

Sophia laughs. “You? Mr. Puppy Dog Eyes and do-you-need-a-hug?”

“I was kind of mean to Jensen,” he says, shrugging.

“Why?”

“I was telling him about the group and what we do and stuff, and he seemed really weirded out. I maybe went into PSA mode.”

“Oh, honey, on a date?” Sophia looks sympathetic but also a little disbelieving.

“Yeah. And then he said he wasn’t gay.”

“He what?”

“I know! But not like—I don’t know. I think he’s got more issues than I thought.”

“You know you don’t know him just because you read about him in Star, right?”

Jared’s really grateful for the lighting that obscures his blush. He thought he was better than that, but Sophia’s right. He’s been making assumptions about Jensen based on tabloid stories, and he should know better.

“God, you’re right,” he says. “I mean, what do I really know about Jensen Ackles?”

As he reaches the end of his sentence, the music suddenly cuts out. Just as Chad is walking by, of _course_.

_If you are the owner of a purple Prius, license plate CNK 80Q3, your lights are on,_ comes over the loud speaker while Chad stops and stares at Jared.

“Dude, I’m getting concerned about your delusion,” Chad says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I can get you an appointment to talk to Dr. Gamble. She specializes in abnormal psychology.”

“Fuck you, man. I’m not delusional, okay?”

Chad nods sympathetically. “I know you _think_ that. Just remember there’s help for you when you’re ready.”

Sophia swats at him. “Why don’t you go roll your balls, douchebag? Leave him alone.”

Chad scoots away at the dangerous glint in her eyes. “Fine, fine. The offer’s open, buddy!”

Jared leans sideways and rests his head on Sophia’s shoulder. “He’s my best friend, but sometimes I want to kill him,” he says while she pats his head.

“That just shows you’re still sane,” she says, pushing him upright. “Now grab a ball, sweetie. It’s your turn!”

Jared sometimes thinks Sophia only comes to bowling night for all the ball jokes.

~*~

Jared stares at his phone. It’s easy, he tells himself, he just has to push send. No big deal. He does it every day.

Jensen’s number stares him down from the tiny LCD screen. He throws the phone down on the couch and paces the living room, debating the merits of pulling his hair out.

Everyone says his hair is one of his best features. Probably a bad plan. He snatches the phone back up and hits the button before he can chicken out again.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jensen?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Jared.”

“Yeah, hi, um. Caller ID.”

“Oh, right, yeah, of course.”

Silence crackles over the line, and Jared claws for the words that usually come so easily to him. If there’s one thing Jared can do, it’s talk, but now his brain is a terrifying white space.

He grabs the first thing he can think of. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole.”

“You’re not,” Jensen answers, sounding bewildered.

It wasn’t what he meant to say, but Jared thinks maybe it was what he needed to say. “I kind of was. I barely know you, and there I go lecturing you about gay rights and whatever, and—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen says. “I mean, yeah, it was a little—” He trails off. “But maybe I needed to hear it.”

“Well, I still feel like a jerk. Could I maybe make it up to you? Take you out again and try to sound less like a PSA?”

“Oh,” Jensen says. Jared bites his lip while he waits for Jensen’s answer. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Awesome,” Jared says, trying to sound cool and together and not at all like he’s smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “Is tomorrow good for you? Sorry. Is Monday a weird night for a date?”

Jensen laughs a little. “No, tomorrow’s good. I don’t really have much of a schedule.”

“Oh, right, of course. That’s me, with the school and the classes and stuff. I forget everybody doesn’t live on a school schedule.”

“Yeah, so. Tomorrow, then?”

“Pick you up at seven?”

“Sure.”

“Is Chris gonna be scary again?”

“Nah, I think you passed the test.”

“Wow, okay, that’s. Good, yeah.”

“Right, well. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you then. Um, bye.”

“Bye.”

Jared pulls the phone away from his ear and ends the call, wondering when exactly he became a thirteen-year-old girl.

~*~

Sometimes, being devious is acceptable if it’s for a friend’s own good. At least, that’s what Jared keeps telling himself.

“Let’s eat outside,” he suggests. “I found this really cute courtyard over by the art building the other day.”

Chad shakes his head. “Man, I don’t know how you keep finding new places on this tiny campus.”

Jared shrugs, “It’s a gift. Come on, let’s go!”

Chad grins at him. “All right, all right.”

“So you should really ask Misha out already.”

“Dude, would you give it a rest?”

“Well he’s pretty hot. Don’t wait forever, or somebody else who actually has some balls is going to snap him up.”

Chad glares at him and doesn’t answer.

They’re almost there now, and Jared squelches the guilt. It’s for Chad’s own good, he reminds himself. So when they just happen to be passing by the law school as Misha is walking out the door, he feigns surprise.

“Oh, hey, look who it is! What’s up, Misha?”

Misha smiles and walks over to them. “Hi guys. Lunch time?”

“Yeah,” Jared says. He glances over, and sure enough, Chad’s gone all pink and silent again. “Oh, hey, that’s right! Chad was telling me he had something to ask you, right, buddy?”

He turns to Chad and finds his best friend eyeing him with dawning horror. He shakes his head, but Jared knows that he can have no mercy if he wants Chad to get laid and maybe discover the joys of a committed relationship that lasts more than a week.

“No, you did, remember that thing? That you were telling me. The one you needed to ask Misha?” He gives Chad a little shove forward and hopes he’s the baby bird that flies and not the one that goes splat on the ground.

He makes a mental note that hanging out with Chad is affecting his taste in metaphors, then gives his full attention to the events in front of him. Chad is standing in front of Misha, possibly frozen, definitely silent.

“Um,” Misha says, smiling but starting to look confused. “What did you need to ask me?”

“I—uh—I—”

Jared is about to step in, make something up on the spot and rescue him when Chad finally rediscovers English.

“Wangodinnerwme?”

Well, sort of.

“I’m sorry, what?” Misha says.

Chad coughs and sucks in a breath. “Do you want to go to dinner with me? Sometime?”

Misha blinks. “I thought you were straight.”

“No,” Chad says. “Why would you think that?”

“Sophia?”

Jared winces as he watches Chad’s shoulders tense. He knows what’s coming, and it’s not going to be pretty.

“So just because I dated a girl once means I couldn’t possibly be interested in men too?”

Misha looks a little scared, and Jared thinks that shows good judgment. “Well, no, but it’s a good indicator?”

“Sexual orientation isn’t a binary, you know. It’s a spectrum. It’s shortsighted and naïve to assume that most people, much less _all_ people, prefer one gender exclusively. Just because I don’t fit into a neatly labeled box doesn’t mean I don’t exist. Yeah, I like cock _and_ pussy. Deal with it.”

Misha blinks and stares. “Um,” he finally says. “Sorry?”

Chad’s all smiles again. “No problem, man. I’m used to it.”

“Right. Wow.”

“So, uh.” Chad suddenly looks nervous again. “Was that a yes or a no to dinner?”

Misha grins at him. “Yes, definitely.”

Jared has entered the Twilight Zone. It’s the only explanation. Or, possibly, Misha is actually crazy enough that he’s _perfect_ for Chad, and they’ll get married and adopt African babies together.

~*~

They’re about twenty minutes outside of town, the late afternoon sun behind them, when Jensen speaks up. “So are you driving me out to the middle of nowhere to kill me?”

Jared laughs. “Damn, you caught me.”

“Seriously, though. Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise!”

“I hate surprises,” Jensen grumbles, but when Jared glances over at the passenger seat, there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lip.

They lapse back into silence just as a Taylor Swift song starts playing on the radio.

After a minute, Jensen says, “God, she is so overrated.” It’s almost under his breath, like he didn’t intend Jared to hear.

“I thought you’d like it,” he says. “I usually don’t listen to country. There’s CDs in the console if you want to change it.”

“Oh, please, Taylor is not country. Nice girl, decent songwriter, but not country.”

Jared slants a look at him. “She’s on your label.”

“Yep.” The single syllable sounds loaded, and Jared waits to see if Jensen will continue. After a minute or so, he does. “I’m—I’m not really making the kind of music I want to be making.”

“Why not?”

Jensen laughs, but not like anything’s funny. “Jared, the music business—it’s like a big game. It’s all about record sales and cross-promotions and radio play. The label knows what sells, or they think they do, and that’s what they want me to make. They’re the ones with the money, so they call the shots.”

“Um, sorry if this is, like, inappropriate to mention or something, but don’t you have enough money to make your own album and tell the label to get lost?”

“It’s not that easy!”

“Why not?”

Jensen splutters. “Well, there are contracts and things and distribution channels and radio connections and—important stuff, okay?”

Jared shrugs. “Sure. I mean, I don’t know anything about the music business. I just thought—isn’t that the _point_?”

“The point of what?”

“Of being ridiculously rich and famous. Isn’t there a point where you just get to do what you want without worrying what anybody else thinks?”

Jensen lets out a long sigh. “If there is, I’m not there yet.”

Jared bites his lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—it’s none of my business. God, I am _no_ fun! Let’s talk about something else. What do you want to talk about?”

Jensen grins at him and shrugs. “I don’t know. How was your day? How was class? You had class, right?”

Jared grabs the topic and runs with it. He spends the rest of the drive making Jensen laugh with stories about the most ridiculous excuses students have given him for not having their assignments done.

They get to Barnstable, and Jared heads straight through the tiny town to the waterfront. He pulls up in front of their destination and turns to Jensen. “Welcome to the Sandy Neck Light. What do you think?”

Jensen tilts his head to the side. “A lighthouse?”

“Yep! Come on, let’s go up!”

Jensen shoots him a look as they climb out of the car. “Climbing stairs is your idea of a good date activity?”

“Aw, you look like you’re in okay shape,” he teases. He starts walking backwards away from the car, gesturing for Jensen to follow. “Come on, you know you think it’s cool.”

Jensen smiles fondly at him. “It’s pretty much the dorkiest thing ever.”

“You love it.”

Jared has only been to the lighthouse once before, when he first moved to Massachusetts. It's one of those things that's really cool to show visitors, but locals tend to forget about. He keeps turning to look back at Jensen following him up the winding staircase. Jensen is grinning and flushed with exertion, his eyes glinting in the half-light.

"Come on, we're almost there!" Jared says as he jogs up the last few steps. He turns on the landing and holds his hand out. Jensen reaches up and takes it, and Jared feels a rush of warmth at the contact. He tugs Jensen forward with just a little too much force, pulling him right up against Jared's chest.

He tilts his head down, feeling giddy and nervous when Jensen doesn't pull back right away. They stay like that, pressed close and staring for a long moment. Jared's sure Jensen can feel the way he's breathing faster, and it's not from climbing the stairs. Reluctantly, he pulls back. "You've got to see this view," he says, pushing the door open.

They step out onto the landing, and Jared hears Jensen’s indrawn breath beside him. “Pretty awesome, huh?” he asks, sliding a glance at Jensen, wide-eyed beside him.

Jensen nods. “Yeah, wow, that’s—wow.”

The bay stretches out below them, little clapboard houses on stilts above the beaches curving away on either side. The setting sun shines red and gold behind them, reflecting on the water.

Jared takes a chance and wraps his arms around Jensen from behind, resting his head on his shoulder. Jensen relaxes against him and tilts his head back.

“Beautiful,” Jared says, and he’s not looking at the bay anymore.

Their lips meet softly, and they explore each others’ mouths. Jensen turns in his arms to get a better angle. Jared thinks maybe he’s never felt anything better than this—Jensen warm and pliant against him, licking against his lips, while the salty bay breeze blows gently around them.

They kiss for a long while. When they pull back to catch their breath, there’s a minute or two where Jensen lays his head on Jared’s shoulder and lets Jared just hold him. Eventually, Jensen pulls back. Jared doesn’t think he’s imagining the reluctance on his face.

“We should probably go down,” Jensen says.

Jared nods. “Yeah.”

Jensen reaches up and kisses him once more before taking his hand and pulling him back through the door to the stairs. They make their way back down, quicker than going up.

“Do you want to walk on the beach?” Jared asks when they emerge into the purple dusk.

Jensen nods and follows him over to the rickety wooden steps that lead down to the sand. They take their shoes off and roll their pants up to keep the sand off, then head straight down through the soft, dry sand, sinking in up to their ankles and laughing at each other for their clumsy attempts at walking.

When they make it down to the firmer sand close to the water, Jensen takes Jared’s hand. They amble along, the occasional ambitious wave making it far enough to tickle their feet.

When a particularly big one races up the sand, Jared kicks out with his foot, splashing Jensen’s lower legs, and grins mischievously.

Jensen gets a look in his eye that makes Jared take off down the beach, laughing and looking back over his shoulder, watching Jensen catch up to him. If Jared’s honest, he wasn’t trying very hard to get away.

Jared turns, still running, as Jensen reaches out and catches him around the waist. Their momentum carries them down to the sand. It knocks the wind out of Jared, landing on the hard sand with Jensen on top of him.

“Shit, are you okay?” Jensen asks.

Jared laughs. “Yeah. Making a habit of this, aren’t we?”

“Seem to be,” Jensen says, grinning down at him.

Jared feels Jensen tense against him at almost the same moment that he realizes how close they are. He draws in a breath, and then Jensen’s kissing him. It’s nothing like the slow, gentle kisses they were sharing earlier. This is hot and dirty and suggests Jensen would rather be doing something else entirely.

Jared moans into his mouth and arches up under him. Jensen is bracing himself with his forearms on either side of Jared’s face. Their bodies are pressed together from chest to thigh, and his cock is already half-hard.

When he realizes he’s shifting his hips, searching for friction, Jared pulls back, panting and all too aware that outside in front of God and everybody is not the place for this.

“Do you want—? I have a house,” he offers awkwardly, all too aware of all the places Jensen is pressed into him.

Jensen nods, lips parted slightly. “Yeah, I want,” he says, his voice low and rough.

Jared makes the hour drive back to town in forty minutes. As soon as they’re inside, Jensen pushes Jared up against the door, fisting his hands in the material of Jared's shirt and kissing him deep and dirty.

Jared moans into his mouth, head spinning at the feeling of Jensen’s lips, teeth and tongue devouring him. Jensen’s hands roam over his chest, creeping up under the hem of his shirt to explore bare skin. Jared yanks his shirt over his head and tugs Jensen hard against him, one hand spanning the small of his back, the other carding through his short hair.

Jensen rolls his hips against Jared, and Jared can feel his hard-on through his jeans. He makes a frustrated little noise and drags Jared away from the wall. “Bedroom?” he asks.

Jared pulls him in the right direction, touching everywhere he can reach, greedy for the feel of Jensen under his hands. They lose the rest of their damp, sandy clothes beside the bed, and Jensen stares at him for a moment.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” he practically growls.

Jared huffs a nervous little laugh, his brain almost checked out and electricity zinging across his skin. “Not so bad yourself,” he manages, hoping Jensen understands he means _so beautiful I can’t even form words to describe it._

Then he stops thinking entirely because Jensen’s dragging him down to the bed, kissing him and biting at his jaw, twining their legs together.

“What do you—” Jared doesn’t have enough blood left in his brain to form a whole question.

Fortunately, Jensen knows what he’s trying to ask. He frames Jared’s jaw with one hand and looks him in the eye. “Fuck me,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument or uncertainty.

Jared nods and fumbles in the bedside table drawer for lube and a condom. He sets them on the mattress next to them and lays himself over Jensen, kissing him again.

Jensen spreads his legs to give Jared access and arches up under him. He grabs Jared’s ass and pulls him forward insistently, rutting against his hip. Jared drags himself away from Jensen’s lips and kisses along his jaw and down his neck, then sits back on his heels and slicks his fingers.

He circles Jensen’s hole with one finger, then pushes inside. Jensen’s hips jerk, and he sucks in a breath.

“Okay?” Jared asks.

Jensen nods. “Keep going.”

Jared adds another finger, stretching him out and opening him up. There’s tension running up Jensen’s legs and across his stomach. His mouth is half open, and he’s panting out shallow little breaths. Jared strokes down his side, making comforting little noises.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers.

Jensen’s cock is straining, full and red, against his stomach. Jared can’t resist ducking his head down and swiping his tongue across the tip, making Jensen let out a high pitched, keening cry. Jared flicks his eyes up to see Jensen’s got his hands fisted in the sheets. He licks his lips and takes Jensen in his mouth as far as he can, then licks and sucks while he pushes inside with three fingers, stretching Jensen out.

Jensen tosses his head back and forth, moaning and mumbling out little half words that go straight to Jared’s cock. He pushes eagerly against Jared’s fingers, and after another moment, he’s got a hand in Jared’s hair, pulling him back.

“Need it,” he pants out. “Please.”

Jared swallows hard and nods. Sitting back on his heels, he rolls the condom on and grips the base of his cock as he covers himself in lube. He moves Jensen’s knees further up and apart and kneels between them, meeting Jensen’s eyes as he pushes inside slowly, giving him time to adjust.

“Oh my god, baby, so hot, so tight, feel so amazing,” Jared says, unable to stop the flow of words. If he had a brain cell left with blood in it, he might be embarrassed that he sounds like bad porn dialogue, but as it is, all he can think of is Jensen underneath him and around him.

Once he’s finally all the way inside, he stills for a moment. He kisses Jensen, hot and open-mouthed, less a kiss than a sharing of breath, then Jensen’s rolling his hips up underneath him.

“Come on, Jay. Move for me,” he says, and Jared’s not about to refuse an order like that.

Jared sets a rhythm, slow at first and then faster as Jensen meets him thrust for thrust, arching and moaning under him. He’s so close now, and he buries his head against Jensen’s shoulder, his hips stuttering as he gets close to the edge.

He feels Jensen slide a hand between them and jack himself, hard and fast. Jensen's hips come up off the bed as he comes, spurting hot and messy all over both of them, and Jared’s done. Jensen’s muscles clench and spasm around him, and he’s coming, filling up the condom.

He collapses on top of Jensen, and they both lie there for a long minute, breathing hard. Jensen’s legs slide down on either side of him, the tension running out of him as Jared softens inside him. After a while, Jensen shoves at his shoulder.

“Fuckin’ heavy,” he mumbles, sounding sleepy.

Jared pulls out carefully, tying off the condom and throwing it away. He gathers Jensen close against his chest and pulls the covers up over both of them.

Jensen makes a little protesting noise. “Should clean up,” he says.

Jared chuckles, feeling warm and satisfied. “Later,” he counters.

“Mmm, okay,” Jensen says, nodding against his neck. His breathing evens out, and he’s asleep in moments.

Jared drops a soft kiss on his temple, feeling a fierce surge of happiness just before unconsciousness claims him.

~*~

Jensen wakes up hot and sticky and wrapped up in Jared. The inside of his eyelids is red, leading him to conclude that it’s morning and he spent all night in Jared’s bed. _Shit_. He didn’t mean to do that. He was going to get up, shower, and go home. Instead, Jared snuggled up to him, and Jensen was so fucked out and comfortable and contented that he passed out, held close against Jared’s chest by his tree trunk arms.

Now there’s sweat at the bend of his elbows and the crease of this thighs, and his skin is itching with dried come. His eyes feel dry and gritty from sleeping in his contacts, and it’s generally disgusting. He tries to pull away gently to avoid waking Jared, but Jared just makes a whuffling sound and tightens his hold.

“Jared,” he says, softly at first, placing a palm flat against Jared’s chest. No answer. “Jared,” he tries again, louder, more insistent.

“Mmf, wha?” Jared says, sleepy and incoherent, cracking one eye open.

“Shower,” Jensen says.

Jared lets his head drop back to the pillow. “Too early, more sleep.”

Jensen shakes his head, resolutely refusing to find the whole thing adorable. “Don’t you have class or something?”

Jared shakes his head, burrowing deeper into the pillow. “Not ‘til two on Tuesdays.”

Of course. “Jared, I’m disgusting. Let me go so I can shower.”

Jared finally opens both eyes and observes Jensen with earnest, puffy eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he declares, but he finally releases his death grip on Jensen.

Jensen shakes his head. “I seriously doubt that right now,” he says, sliding off the bed.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, baby,” Jared calls after him as he crosses the floor to the open bathroom door. He stills at the easy use of the endearment. Jensen’s never been anybody’s baby. It sends uneasy little sparks of pleasure shooting along between his shoulder blades and up the back of his neck. He does the only thing he can think to do and keeps walking.

He’s been standing under the blessedly hot water for less than a minute when Jared steps in behind him and wraps his arms around Jensen’s waist, drawing him backwards against the length of him.

“Morning,” he says, kissing the side of Jensen’s neck.

Jensen just does not know what to do with this. He’s never spent the night after fucking somebody. Is this what people do? Or is this just Jared? He briefly considers freaking out and pulling back and running away, but he doesn’t really want to do any of those things. He wants to relax back into Jared’s warmth and accept the closeness and affection Jared doesn’t have any reservations about showing him.

And maybe, just maybe, in this tiny Massachusetts town where no one cares that you can’t be gay and a country star, in a completely different dimension from his multi-million dollar music career, maybe here, he can have what he wants. It could be that simple, Jensen thinks. And he decides, right then, that it will be. He turns in Jared’s arms, twines his arms around his neck, and kisses him. Jared tastes like morning breath and tap water, and he smiles against Jensen’s lips.

Jensen pulls back and smiles up at him. “Morning.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s a couple of hours, three cups of coffee, and countless kisses later when Jared reluctantly admits he has to grade some papers before class, or his students are going to burn him in effigy.

“Later, though, do you maybe want to—you remember the mentoring group I told you about?”

Jensen nods warily.

“Well, most of the time we just hang out. There’s not a lot of official business to take care of after the first meeting of the semester.” Jared runs a hand through his hair. He’s nervous, Jensen realizes. “They’re just—they’re my friends. I’d like you to meet them. You know, if you want.”

Jensen blinks. “Why?”

Jared grins. “Because I kind of like you?”

“Kind of?”

Jared pulls him in for a kiss, the way he’s done about every five seconds this morning. “Kind of really a lot,” he says.

“I kind of really like you a lot, too,” Jensen confides teasingly, feeling a stupid, half-terrified thrill.

“And maybe just a little bit so Chad will stop trying to get me treated for paranoid delusions.”

“Who, what now?”

“My best friend. I told him you knocked me down in Wal-Mart, and he’s been watching me for signs of schizophrenia ever since.”

Jensen laughs. “Wow.”

Jared nods ruefully. “Yeah. So will you come?”

There’s hopeful apprehension written all over his face, and Jensen can’t really say anything. “Sure, what time?”

Jared breaks out the happy, unrestrained grin that's beginning to be one of Jensen’s favorite things ever. “Around five,” he says. “We meet here.”

Jensen nods. “Okay, see you then.”

Jared nods. They kiss one more time, a little more lingering, and Jensen lets his eyes slide closed and savors the feeling of Jared’s lips on his. Jared pulls back first, looking regretful.

“See you tonight,” he says.

“Right, see ya,” Jensen says, feeling slightly dazed as he makes his way down the sidewalk.

Chris is waiting when he gets home, looking rumpled and red-eyed.

“Jesus, Jensen! Where have you been?” he demands the second Jensen walks in. “I was about to call the cops!”

Jensen frowns at him. “I had my phone,” he says, confused.

Chris glares at him. “Yeah, well, great job picking it up. I only called you about fifteen times.”

Jensen fishes in his pocket and pulls out his phone, then stares at its blank display. “Shit,” he says, his stomach sinking to his feet. “I must have forgotten to charge it.”

“Ya think?” Chris clenches his jaw hard, looking past Jensen’s shoulder. “I was starting to think Jared really was a crazy fan and I should be looking for a ransom note.”

Jensen feels like shit for making Chris worry. “I’m sorry,” he says, hoping he sounds as contrite as he is.

Chris crosses the room in two strides and wraps Jensen up in a tight hug. It’s over before Jensen can do anything more than squeak in protest. “Just don’t let it happen again,” he cautions.

Jensen shakes his head.

“So,” he says, grinning evilly, changing moods so fast it makes Jensen’s head spin. “I take it the date went well?”

Jensen feels his cheeks heat up. “You could say that,” he answers.

“So how is he in the sack?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s how,” Jensen growls, embarrassed.

Chris whistles. “That good, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“So you gonna see him again or dine and ditch?”

Jensen scowls. “What makes you think I was the one sucking dick?” he demands.

“Just an expression, pumpkin, but for the record, how many times in your life have you heard ‘cock sucking lips’?”

“I hate you a lot.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sugar muffin. So?”

Jensen sighs heavily. “I’m gonna see him again,” he says.

“That’s my boy!”

~*~

Jensen’s nervous when he knocks on Jared’s door at a few minutes past five. He doesn’t know about this ‘meeting the friends’ thing. He thinks that Jared’s imploring puppy look is probably a very dangerous thing, and he hopes Jared never asks him to commit hara-kiri.

The door is yanked open by a squinty-eyed blond man.

“Oh, you have _got_ to be shitting me,” he says.

“Hi?” Jensen tries. He looks past the guy and sees a couple of other people in the living room, but no sign of Jared. “Jared told me to come.”

“Of course he did.” He steps back from the door and gestures Jensen inside with one hand while he covers his eyes with the other.

Jensen walks in and proceeds to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room while Chad and the other occupants of the room stare at him, wide-eyed. Fortunately, he’s saved from having to try making small talk by Jared bursting noisily through the door behind him.

“Shit, Jen, I’m _so_ sorry. Student meeting ran late. Did Chad traumatize you?” He grips Jensen by the upper arms, studying him with concern in his eyes, blatantly ignoring everyone else in the room.

Jensen is strangely pleased by the attention. He smiles up at Jared. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve only been here for a minute. It’s okay.”

Jared’s eyes clear, and he nods. “Okay, good.” He slides one hand down to clasp Jensen’s and turns to face the others. “Guys, this is Jensen,” he says, sounding nervous and proud. He introduces the rest of the group.

The squinty-eyed guy is, no shock, Chad. The brunette woman on the couch is Sam, and the redhead on her lap is Danneel. The dark-haired guy with blue eyes is Misha, and the gorgeous woman that came in with Jared is Sophia.

There are a few minutes of awkward small talk where everyone tries to ignore the elephant in the room, and Jensen is all too aware that he’s the elephant. Then Danneel pipes up. “So, Jensen. What’s it like being a super famous country artist outed by every tabloid in the country?”

“Danny!” Jared exclaims, looking horrified.

Jensen lays a hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” he says, then turns back to Danneel. “I’ve had better summers,” he tells her.

Everyone laughs, and just like that, the tension is broken. For a few minutes, they ask him the questions that he expects people to ask—what’s it like being famous—stuff he’s been asked a thousand times and has ready answers for. But then they start asking other kinds of questions. Questions he’s not anywhere near as comfortable with.

“How did you do it?” Danneel asks. “You’ve been in the closet for at least ten years. How did you do that?”

She’s looking at him with honest confusion in her eyes, and Jensen—Jensen doesn’t really understand the question. He’s suddenly much less relaxed, but Jared has a calming hand on his back, thumb stroking softly, and Jensen knows that he can call a halt if he needs to. So he does his best to answer. “I never thought about it like that,” he says. “I didn’t know there was another option. I—well. How many gay country singers have you heard of?” Silence. He nods. “Exactly.”

The novelty starts to wear off, and people start talking amongst themselves, taking the focus off Jensen, much to his relief. A few minutes later, Chad leaves the room and comes back with an armful of liquor.

Apparently, the activity for the evening is playing the L Word drinking game.

“Take a shot every time Jenny Schecter is annoying,” Danneel suggests.

Chad scoffs. “Please. We’d be taking shots every five seconds.”

She tilts her head, conceding the point. The group settles on an acceptable list, drinks are mixed, and Jared cues up the episode on his DVD player.

The whole thing feels slightly surreal to Jensen, and he’s not sure why he’s watching a bunch of chicks get it on, but after the first couple of shots, it gets way more entertaining. Not to mention that nothing could really be bad while Jared is at his side, warm and happy and increasingly cuddly.

They take a break after the first episode, everybody happy and buzzed and well on the way to drunk. Jared ventures into the kitchen to make snacks, and Chad flops down in his vacated seat.

“So,” he says to Jensen, nodding like he’s said something profound.

“So?” Jensen asks. He’s a little bit afraid of Chad.

“I’m a trained counselor. I have a master's degree.”

“Good for you,” Jensen tells him.

“I’m just saying, if you want to talk about—” He gestures vaguely at the air. “—Stuff. I’m here for ya, buddy.”

Jensen coughs. “Um, wow, Chad. Thanks, but—” He casts about, looking for some kind of appropriate answer. “I think that might be awkward, given the situation.”

Chad nods. “The situation where you’re boning my best friend?”

Jensen chokes. “Um.”

“It’s cool, man, conflict of interests. I get it. I can refer you to someone.”

“I think I’m doing all right without professional help, but I appreciate the offer.” Jensen hopes Chad is going to go away now. Chad makes him uncomfortable.

“Chad, stop molesting Jensen!” Jared says, coming back into the room with a huge plate of nachos.

Chad looks affronted. “I wasn’t!” he protests.

Jared looks to Jensen, and Jensen nods. “Just offering his, uh, professional services,” he says.

Jared glares at Chad. “Right, ‘cause that’s better. Get your ass out of my spot.”

Chad gets up, tossing one more offended look at Jared before walking across the room and sitting in Misha’s lap.

Jared blinks. “Wow, that was fast.”

“What?” Jensen asks.

“Two days ago, he couldn’t even talk in front of the guy.”

“Could be the liquor,” Jensen suggests.

Jared laughs. “Maybe,” he says.

Later, after even more liquor, Jensen finds himself next to Misha, who's apparently a talkative drunk. He tells Jensen all about Chad, how he thought Chad was straight and how Misha doesn’t know how he feels about dating a bisexual guy, but Chad is really, really hot and awesome, and maybe he would like to have Chad’s magical gay babies. He also says a lot of stuff about presenting a positive image of gay people to the world that Jensen is kind of uncomfortable thinking about, but he keeps thinking about it anyway.

Even later, everyone else goes home, trickling out in ones and twos, except for Chad who’s passed out on the couch. Jensen follows Jared upstairs, and they undress, clumsy with exhaustion and alcohol. They fall into bed and cuddle close together, their legs entwined.

“Did you have fun?” Jared murmurs sleepily.

Jensen nods against his chest. “Yeah,” he says.

~*~

There’s a knock on his open door, and Jared looks up, expecting a student. Instead Chad is standing in the doorway looking awkward.

“Since when do you knock?” he asks, waving Chad inside.

Chad shrugs, shuffling in. “What up?” he asks.

Jared rolls his eyes. “Grading papers. Constant joy of my life.”

Chad tries to smile, but he still looks nervous.

“Okay, seriously, man. What is up with you?”

Biting his lip for a minute, Chad glances around the room, everywhere but at Jared. “I’m sorry,” he says to the floor.

Jared realizes what’s going on, and, okay, he thinks he deserves to enjoy this just a little. “I’m sorry, what was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

Chad stops fidgeting and finally looks right at Jared. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you about Ackles, okay? I’m a shitty friend, and I throw myself on your mercy. Are you happy?”

Jared pretends to consider. “I don’t know. What are you willing to do to keep my awesome friendship?”

“Pick up your dry cleaning? Grade your papers for you? What do you want?” Chad has to know Jared’s messing with him, but he looks harassed all the same. Jared decides he’s suffered enough.

“Dude, it’s cool. Forgiven, forgotten, all that.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to have to interview for that position again.”

“Fucker.”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

~*~

Several weeks pass, and Jensen finds himself sliding easily into the routines of Jared’s life. He’s sort of tangential, but in an important way—he’s “the boyfriend,” and he goes pretty much everywhere Jared goes and participates in all his activities. Well, not his _job_ , of course. He doesn’t follow Jared to class like some oversized purse dog, but otherwise, he’s with Jared nearly constantly.

They hang out with the Safe Zone group two or three nights a week. They go on dates. The hostess at the restaurant Jared first took him to knows Jensen, too, and not because she’s seen him in a magazine.

Jensen is getting to be pretty good friends with Misha, too. Misha likes to talk to him about Chad even when he’s not drunk. Jensen also finds that they share a reserved personality and general dislike of people.

Somewhere along the line, while Jensen isn’t paying attention, small town Massachusetts starts to feel like home.

~*~

One morning, Jensen comes home to find Chris packing. “Hey, going somewhere?” he asks.

Chris smiles at him a little sadly. “Heading home, man.”

“What? Why?”

The hint of sadness gives way to exasperation. “Boy, I do have a life outside looking after your sorry ass.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jensen says, not pouting at all.

“Seriously, Jenny, I came to make sure you weren’t going to drown yourself in the bathtub. And since you’re too busy making goo-goo eyes at your boyfriend to contemplate suicide, I figure, mission accomplished.”

“Jared’s not—” Jensen starts.

“Not your boyfriend?” Jensen opens his mouth, but Chris beats him to it. “Try again. You’ve only been home one night this week.”

Jensen frowns, thinking. It’s been more than that, he’s sure. Except he thinks back, and Chris is right. “Oh,” he says, “well.”

Chris nods. “Yeah. So try not to disappear again, huh?”

“I won’t,” Jensen says.

Chris hefts his duffel over one shoulder and grabs his guitar case with the other hand, and then he’s gone. Jensen misses him already, but Chris is right. As usual, the bastard. Jensen is already thinking about seeing Jared again in a few hours.

Jared swears this is going to be the night he finally pins Jensen down and makes him watch _Queer As Folk_. Jensen’s pretty sure he can make Jared pin him down and do something else, though. He grins to himself, felling warm just thinking of Jared’s hands all over him.

He’s got a few hours to kill before then, though, so he pulls out his guitar to work on a song that’s been running through his head in snatches off and on the last couple of days.

~*~

Jensen’s phone is ringing shrilly in the dark of the bedroom. Jensen groans.

“Who the fuck is calling in the middle of the night?” he grumbles, fumbling for the phone. In his mostly-asleep stupor, he manages to knock it off the nightstand onto the floor.

Jared, who's apparently been brought to semi-consciousness by the deafening ringing, loosens the arm he has slung around Jensen’s waist so he can slide far enough over the edge of the bed to grab the phone.

“Hello?” he rasps out.

“Jensen! My man!” It’s a mark of how long it’s been and how not-conscious he truly is that it takes him a second to place the voice.

“Dohring? Do you know what fucking time it is?”

“The news doesn’t sleep, brother,” his agent tells him blithely. Jensen is sure that Jason has been sitting on whatever it is for hours just so he could wake him up in the middle of the night, and he is _not_ impressed. Asshole.

“Which would be relevant if you were a newspaperman,” Jensen tells him, marveling at his own ability to string a sentence together under the circumstances.

“The _news_ ,” Jason continues as if he hadn’t spoken, “is that the label is ready to welcome the prodigal son back into the fold.” He pauses and then adds, “That’s you.” As if Jensen needed the clarification.

Jensen is—he’s too fucking tired to figure out what he is. “Great, okay. That’s great news,” he says.

“You don’t _sound_ like you think it’s great news,” Jason scolds.

Jensen glares at the phone like that’ll help. “You woke me up at three in the fucking morning. Forgive my lack of enthusiasm. Now I’m going back to sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.” He stops. “ _Later_ in the morning. Goodnight.”

Jason’s still talking when Jensen hits the end button and drops the phone back on the table.

“Who was that?” Jared asks sleepily.

“Nobody,” Jensen says. “Nothing. Never mind. I’ll tell you in the morning. Go back to sleep.”

Jared makes a sleepy sound and pulls Jensen in, spooning around him, and dropping a kiss on his shoulder. Jensen can tell by his breathing that he’s asleep again almost instantly. He lies quiet in the circle of Jared's arms and doesn’t sleep the rest of the night.

~*~

Jensen is quiet at breakfast, and not in that “I haven’t had my coffee yet, I’m not actually human” way.

“Hey, are you okay?” Jared asks him, reaching across the table to lay a hand on his forearm.

Jensen stiffens and pulls back, and this is just not good at _all_.

“Jay,” he says. “That was my agent last night.”

“Oh. Bad news?” Jared asks, preparing to be sympathetic.

Jensen shakes his head. “Good news, actually. The label wants me back in Nashville to start recording on the new album.”

Jared grins. He knows there’s nothing Jensen wants more than to get back to work. “That’s great, Jen!”

“Yeah,” Jensen says, not sounding like he thinks it’s great at all.

“What’s wrong?”

Jensen sighs. “You know this means I’m leaving, right?”

Oh. That. “Yeah, Jen, I get it. But we’ll still see each other. I mean not as much, but we can call. I could come visit you over winter break. That’s only a month or so away.”

Jensen shakes his head jerkily. “No, Jared, no. That’s not—I’m _leaving_ , and this has to be over.”

“This what?” Jared asks carefully, but he’s afraid he already knows the answer.

“This,” Jensen says, gesturing between them. “Us.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Jared doesn’t want to hear what Jensen is telling him. “People do long distance all the time. I mean, it’ll suck, and I’ll miss you, but we’ll be _okay_.”

“Jared. It’s been—it’s been nice, but I have a real life that I have to go back to.”

If Jensen punched him in the throat, it wouldn’t hurt more than that. He has to take a moment and just breathe before he says, “This _is_ real, Jensen. We are in a _real_ relationship.”

Jensen looks at him with something dangerously close to pity. “It’s real _here_ ,” he says. “But out there, record sales and advertising and talent marketability are what’s real. The label is taking me back because people have mostly forgotten about my gay scandal. I can’t come home with a boyfriend.”

Jared does the only thing he can think to do. He takes a step that puts him right up in Jensen’s space and kisses him. It’s hard and desperate, and Jensen resists for a moment. Jared’s about to pull back when Jensen gives in and melts against him. It’s a long time until he makes himself pull away, but he stays close, staring at the counter behind Jensen.

“Don’t go. _Please_ ,” he says quietly, with a tremble he can’t quite conceal. He looks up.

Jensen’s eyes are bright when he looks back at Jared, but he shakes his head. “Jared, I _can’t_.”

Something inside of Jared snaps then, and he’s suddenly angry. No, he’s fucking furious. “You’re a damn coward, Jensen. You've got more money than God, but you pretend you're at their mercy. If you wanted, you could _make_ them listen. Record label doesn't want a gay country star? Start your own damn label. You're just hiding behind these excuses because you're too afraid to let the world see who you really are. I thought you were better than that. Well, I guess I was wrong."

Jared stops, breathing hard. He stares at Jensen, looking for some sign he’s gotten through to him. Jensen stares back for what seems like a long time, lips pressed together and tense lines around his mouth. Seconds or hours, Jared doesn’t know. Finally, he can’t take it anymore.

“Well?” he asks.

Jensen swallows hard. “Goodbye, Jared,” he says, and then he gathers up his things and walks out of Jared’s life.

~*~

Jared doesn’t know how long he stands in the kitchen after Jensen walks out. He’s stuck in that moment of time, replaying it over and over in his head while his coffee gets cold on the counter.

Eventually, he wanders into the living room and drops down onto the couch. He curls into a corner of it, trying to make himself small, and pulls a blanket over himself.

Hours later, his cell phone buzzes in his pocket, reminding him that there’s an outside world. He pulls it out and looks at the display. It’s a number at the university, and he answers dully. It’s one of the secretaries in the office, wondering where he was for his class today, which he completely forgot about. He mumbles something about a family emergency and hangs up.

He loses track of time again until the sun is sinking low in the sky and the hammering on his door starts up. He hears Chad and Sophia calling his name. He should really go answer the door, he thinks. He realizes he hasn’t moved when Chad’s key scrapes in the lock and his friends come rushing in with worried faces.

He tries to tell them he’s fine and make them go away, but he’s not surprised he’s less than convincing. Sophia shoves him over to the middle of the couch so she and Chad can each sit on either side of him. Jared knows he must be truly pitiful because not even _Chad_ is making fun of him. Instead, he pulls out his best counseling material and gets Jared to spill the whole story.

Jared isn’t a pretty crier. There are tears and snot all over his face by the time he finishes. Sophia hands him a tissue and curls into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. She begins quietly and comfortingly detailing all the ways Jensen is a douchebag and not good enough for someone as wonderful as Jared. It doesn’t help at all, but he appreciates her trying.

Chad details his plan of following Jensen down to Nashville and killing him in a dark alley. Jared is grateful when Sophia talks him down because he just doesn’t have the energy to do it. He’s pretty sure there are threats of castration. Sophia never misses an opportunity to threaten Chad’s manhood.

Of course, Jared’s not entirely sure _Sophia_ isn’t going to hunt Jensen down herself, but—he just doesn’t have the energy to worry too much about it. He hurts everywhere. This bone-deep ache has settled into him and doesn’t seem likely to go away again any time soon.

“I just thought,” he starts at some point, probably not for the first time tonight.

Sophia shushes him. “We know, sweetie,” she tells him, her voice soft and sad. She brushes his hair away from his face with a gentle hand.

Maybe Jared should be embarrassed about being treated like an invalid when there’s nothing _wrong_ with him, but since right now, he feels like he could sink into the couch cushions and never move again, he lets it go.

~*~

Chris is pacing the huge living room of Jensen’s house in Nashville. The contrast between this and the simple apartment in Massachusetts is impossible to miss. “You’re an idiot,” he tells Jensen, eyes blazing.

Jensen knows. He feels like he cut his goddamn arm off; how could he not? But he didn’t have any choice. “I couldn’t just—”

“Sure you could,” Chris cuts him off. “Your boy’s right. You’ve got enough money to do whatever the fuck you want. At least man up and admit you ran away like a little girl.”

“It wasn’t like that!”

“Sure it wasn’t. Call me when you’ve got your head on straight.”

“Chris, I couldn’t! I’ve got a life. Responsibilities.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Chris spits out. “You don’t owe those bastards a thing after the millions they’ve made off you. And as for this _life_ of yours—” He breaks off, dragging a hand through his hair. “Maybe for once you could think about what makes you happy instead of what you think is _supposed_ to make you happy.”

Jensen’s chest feels tight. “But—” he starts.

“Think about it, Jensen,” Chris cuts him off, then storms out with a dark glare, slamming the door behind him.

Jensen calls Steve. Steve is good at being sympathetic. Except for when he’s not.

“Chris is right,” he says mildly. “You’re an idiot.”

Jensen huffs and glares, not that Steve can see him. “You’re no help.”

“Depends on what you mean by help. If you want me to pat your head and tell you it’s okay to stay in the closet and be miserable, I won’t. I’ve already done that for too long.”

“But you—” Jensen breaks off, not wanting to finish that thought. Steve takes pity and doesn’t make him.

“Look, Jensen, it was different with me. I was never in love with you.”

“You weren’t?” That hurts. Not like leaving Jared hurts, sharp and constant, more like the ache of an old injury. A reminder of something that was once there.

Steve coughs. “Whatever. We’re not talking about ancient history, anyway.”

“Well, Jared’s not in love with me, either,” Jensen insists.

“That’s not what Chris says.”

“I’m hanging up on you now.”

“Don’t miss out on a good thing ‘cause you’re scared, Jensen.”

“Goodbye, Steve.”

~*~

It’s still mostly dark when Jared wakes up. He blinks and rubs the grit out of his eyes, trying to figure out what woke him.

It takes a minute for the buzzing to penetrate his conscious mind. It sounds like a very large swarm of bees is surrounding his house, and he struggles out of bed and lifts the blinds. Then he drops the cord and reels back from the window in shock.

There are huge crowds of people surrounding his house, people with huge cameras, notepads, and voice recorders. The ones closest to the house are knocking on the windows and generally raising a bunch of hell. Jared thinks he’s seen this movie a few times, but it’s never been his life before.

Jared calls Chad. “There appear to be cannibalistic reporters surrounding my house,” he tells him, eerily calm.

“What the fuck?”

“There are reporters with cameras and microphones and whatever else all over my lawn,” he says, hearing the slight tremble in his voice.

There’s a long silence on the other end of the line.

“Chad?”

Chad sucks in a breath. “Turn on the TV, Jay,” he says, more serious than Jared has ever heard him when he’s not talking about his work. A thrill of fear runs down his spine.

“What? Why?”

“Looks like you’re front page news. You and your _boyfriend_.”

“Jensen?” Jared says, feeling like his brain is running too slowly to keep up with what’s going on.

Chad scoffs. “No, your other super famous boyfriend. Yes, Jensen Ackles, country singer extrordinaire, massive douchebag, outed for the second time in a year. And everybody’s talking about his _professor_ lover, Jared Padalecki."

“But how did they find out?”

“I don’t know, buddy. Looks like you weren’t quite careful enough. There’s some grainy photo of the two of you out somewhere acting all mushy. Looks like somebody took it on their phone or something.”

Jared pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you, um. I can’t deal with this. Can you come get me? Please?”

“Yeah, okay. If the ravening horde eats me, though, I will haunt your ass.”

Jared attempts a laugh. “Okay, noted, thanks.”

Chad’s voice goes soft. “I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Yeah.”

When Chad calls, Jared can barely hear him over the background noise. “Holy shit, Jay! This is insane! Back off, fucker!”

“What?”

“Not you, Jay. One of the vultures out here. Okay, give me like thirty seconds and then open the door, all right?”

“Okay, see you in a minute.”

“Thirty seconds! Don’t leave me stranded out here!”

“Okay, already!”

He flips his phone shut and counts down from thirty. He takes a deep breath and yanks the door open. The noise level increases dramatically as Chad tumbles through, shoving reporters back. Jared slams the door behind him and throws the bolt.

Chad plasters himself against the closed door, looking harassed, eyes wide. Jared tugs him forward and wraps him up in a hug.

“Can’t breathe,” Chad squeaks out after a minute.

Jared lets him go. “Thank you,” he says, trying to convey the deep, _deep_ gratitude that he feels towards Chad at this point.

Chad shakes his head, looking vaguely mystified. “That’s what friends are for, Jay. Now grab whatever you need for a few days and we’ll do this thing."

Jared nods. He grabs clothes at random and stuffs them into a duffle bag, along with his laptop, some shampoo, and a few other essentials. After making a last check that he has his wallet and keys, he hefts the bag over his shoulder.

“Ready?” Chad says.

“Ready.”

They wade through the sea of reporters, Jared mumbling “no comment,” over and over like a mantra. They’re all screaming over each other, and he can’t really distinguish whole questions. All he hears is “Jensen, Jensen, Jensen,” until he wants to scream. Well, _more_.

Finally, they break through and make it to Chad’s car. A couple of intrepid young cub reporters make a grab for the fender, but Chad peels off and leaves them in the dust.

~*~

The label's office is in uproar. They called Jensen in for an emergency meeting when the story broke this morning. It all feels nauseatingly familiar, except this time, Jensen isn’t really worried about himself. Jared’s name and picture are plastered across tabloids all over the country. He didn’t sign up for this circus, didn’t ask for it like Jensen did. Jensen can only imagine what he’s going through right now.

Dohring is pacing, and Gabe is muttering to himself and bouncing like a ferret on crack. Jensen, on the other hand, is strangely numb. His agent is yelling about damage control and spin, and all he can think about is Jared. Jared talking about positive role models for young gay men, and Jared getting all worked up and passionate talking about the Safe Zone program, and Jared—Jared all gorgeous, surrounding him and pushing into him and miles of beautiful golden skin. Jared kissing him on top of a lighthouse for God and everybody to see like it’s nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to hide. And Jared leaning against his kitchen counter, hazel eyes glassy, begging Jensen not to go and calling him a coward.

It comes to Jensen in a rush. Jared is right. He’s right about everything, and Chris and Steve are also right; Jensen is an _idiot_.

He stands up and cuts Jason off mid-tirade. “No,” he says calmly but with enough force and volume that it shuts his agent up.

“What?”

“You heard me. I said no. No damage control, no spinning, no strategic appearances with busty starlets, none of it. I’m gay, and I’m tired of hiding. If the label doesn’t like it, they can go fuck themselves. And you can help.”

Jensen walks out of the office feeling strangely free. He knows what he needs to do now. He just hopes it’s not too late.

~*~

Jensen’s heart is in his throat as he makes his way up to the second floor of the English building. He can’t believe he’s doing this. Jared’s cell number is out of service, all his e-mails bounced back, and there was no answer at home, either. There’s no contact information on Jared’s profile on the university website, and Jensen doesn’t know if it was always that way because he never looked before.

Jensen wracks his brain and finally thinks he remembers when Jared has office hours. He’s almost positive that Jared never wants to see him again, but he has to know for sure. If there’s even the slightest chance that Jared still loves him, he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win him back.

He nearly turns around and flees when he sees Emo Boy sprawled on the floor outside Jared’s office door. He steels himself, though, and keeps walking.

“Um, hi,” he says, wishing he could remember the kid’s name because this is weird.

The kid looks up at him, and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh, hi. Um. What are you doing here?”

Jensen coughs. “Came to see Jared.”

“So it’s true?”

“Yeah, it’s true.” Jensen gestures vaguely at the door. “So do you think I could, uh, before—?”

“Dude, I don’t care _how_ famous you are. I have a term paper due _tomorrow_. Wait your turn.”

Jensen blinks. That was unexpected. “I won’t be long.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Come on, please,” he tries, hating the desperate note in his voice. He can’t believe he’s begging an eighteen-year-old to let him cut in line. “It’s kind of important.”

The kid rolls his eyes, smirking a little. “Dude, if you were _Jesus_ , I’d still tell you to wait in line like everybody else.”

Jensen’s gearing up to try another tactic when the door opens and a girl walks out smiling. She’s making small talk with Jared, who appears in the doorway behind her. He’s grinning and chattering, but he falls silent when he sees Jensen.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“The phone?” he says, his tone icy.

Jensen bites his lip. “Out of service. E-mail, too”

Jared looks thrown for a minute before the cold mask slips back into place.

“I have work to do. Come on in, Zac.”

Jensen moves forward involuntarily. “Jared—”

Jared pulls back like he’s afraid, and it cuts Jensen to the bone.

Zac jumps in. “Oh my god,” he says, sounding exasperated. “Go ahead. He’s obviously not going to be concentrating on my paper while he’s thinking about you, anyway.”

Jared looks ready to protest, but Zac flops back down on the floor, and Jensen takes two steps towards the door. Jared either has to let Jensen run into him or back up. He moves aside, eyes down, to let Jensen through.

“So?” Jared says once they’re seated on opposite sides of the desk.

“I’m an idiot,” Jensen says.

“This is news?” Jared asks. The sarcasm stings, but Jensen pushes on. Jared is worth it.

“You were right about everything, okay? I _was_ afraid and making excuses, but I’m not anymore. I love you, Jared.”

Jared is silent for a long time. Jensen feels his pulse thrumming under his skin while he waits.

“Do you only love me in Massachusetts?” he finally asks, and Jensen can hear all the hurt and anger behind the question.

“ _No_ ,” he says, too loud and emphatic. He takes a breath. “No, I love you everywhere. Texas, Nashville, anywhere. I’m not scared anymore, and it’s because of _you_.”

Jensen takes a shuddering breath. “After I left, I realized losing you was the worst thing I could think of. Worse than all that stuff in the tabloids or my fans hating me or— _anything_. I’m pretty sure the label is going to drop me. I’ve been ignoring Jason’s calls, so I’m not sure. But I don’t care. None of it matters anymore. Not like you do. Can you—do you think you can give me a second chance?”

Jared circles the desk and pulls Jensen up from the chair. Jensen makes a small noise of protest, and then Jared’s lips are on his. It takes Jensen a second to realize this is actually happening, and he fists Jared’s shirt in both hands and holds on tight.

They kiss until they’re both breathless. Jared rests his forehead against Jensen’s for a moment, then he pulls back and cups Jensen’s face between his palms, forcing eye contact.

“Don’t break my heart again,” he says, his voice breaking slightly.

“I won’t,” he says. He’ll write it out and sign it in blood if Jared asks him to.

Jared just leans in and kisses him again, hard and swift. “Okay,” he says, nodding firmly and starting to smile.

“Really?” Jensen asks, not quite willing to believe it yet.

Jared’s small smile grows into a full-on grin. “Really.”

Jensen exhales. “I am the luckiest bastard on the planet,” he says.

“You really are,” Jared says, and he kisses him again. Jensen’s got Jared’s shirt halfway off when they both jump at the banging on the door.

“Are you guys done kissing and making up yet? I would really like to not fail!” Zac yells.

They laugh, embarrassed.

“I’ve got to finish these conferences,” Jared says regretfully, “Wait for me at home?”

Jensen warms at the way Jared says _home_ like maybe it’s not just his anymore. He nods. “I will.”

They kiss one more time, and then Jared shoos him out the door. Zac just rolls his eyes at both of them, and Jensen does not blush. At all.


	4. Epilogue

Jared’s practically vibrating by the time he gets done with the last of his student meetings. He’s not sure how he concentrated on term papers at all, knowing Jensen is waiting for him.

There’s a second where his stomach drops while he's standing at his own door. Maybe he made it up and Jensen didn’t really come back. He shakes his head, knowing he’s being ridiculous, then opens the door.

Jensen is there, sitting on the couch, back straight and shoulders tense. He looks at Jared with wide eyes like he thinks it’s possible Jared changed his mind or something. Jensen doesn’t seem to realize how gone for him Jared really is.

Jared crosses the room in two giant strides, pulls Jensen up, and kisses him. “Hi,” he says, knowing he’s grinning like an idiot.

“Hi,” Jensen answers. “How was—”

Jared cuts him off with a kiss. “Bed now, talk later,” he says, tugging their hips together.

Jensen whimpers slightly and nods, allowing Jared to pull him toward the stairs.

In the bedroom, they lose their shirts quickly and come back together. Jared revels in the feeling of skin on skin, letting his hands roam freely over Jensen’s back, wanting to take his time even as he feels himself getting uncomfortably hard in his pants.

Jensen pushes him backwards gently until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He drops to his knees between Jared’s spread thighs. He rubs his cheek almost reverently against Jared’s cock. It’s barely a tease through two layers of fabric, and Jared bites his lip to stifle a moan.

Jensen gets him out of his pants, and Jared shudders at the cool air on his overheated cock. He places a kiss on the head, then swallows Jared down. Jared can’t help but buck up into the tight, wet heat. Jensen takes him like it’s nothing, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking hard. He twists his hand around the base of Jared’s shaft, driving him crazy.

Jared feels his orgasm rush him like a freight train. “Jensen,” he gasps out. It’s all the warning he manages before he’s coming, but Jensen just hums around his dick, swallowing him down. He strokes Jared through the aftershocks and licks him clean.

Jared just breathes for a minute, coming down, before he realizes that Jensen is still kneeling in front of him, his cock straining visibly against his jeans. He pulls Jensen off the floor, kissing him hard and messy as they tumble back against the bed.

He gets a hand between them and fumbles with Jensen’s fly until he has Jensen’s cock in his hand. It’s red and leaking precome. Jared jerks him hard and fast, his thumb catching under the head and sliding across the slit. Jensen’s head is thrown back, and he’s breathing in little whining pants. It only takes a few pulls before he’s coming, hot and messy across Jared’s hand.

It’s a few minutes before they both come back to their surroundings enough to realize they’re tangled together on top of the bedspread and still have their pants on. They get rid of the rest of their clothes and crawl in under the covers.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen mumbles against Jared’s chest sometime later.

Jared brushes a thumb across his temple. “Hey, we did that part,” he says.

Jensen shrugs, shifting in Jared’s arms. “I know. I just—”

“I love you,” Jared says, kissing him.

Jensen sighs. “I’m trying to grovel here.”

“I know,” Jared tells him. “Stop it. You already did plenty, and everybody’s allowed to fuck up really spectacularly at least once.”

Jensen laughs softly. “Okay, fine. You win.”

They make out lazily for a while, and Jared’s cock is just starting to stir again when his cell phone rings. He pulls away from Jensen’s mouth with a frustrated groan. He wants to ignore it, but it’s probably Chad—again—making sure he hasn’t drowned himself in the bathtub. If he doesn’t pick up, Chad will probably show up at the door, and nobody wants that right now.

He rolls out of bed and rummages through his jeans pockets until he finds his phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, Mopey! How was your day?”

“Awesome, Chad. How was yours?” He slides back into bed and curls against Jensen as he talks.

“Also awesome. What a coincidence! So listen, I just wanted to make sure you remember about bowling tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um, actually—” Jared starts.

“No, no, no!” Chad exclaims. “No skipping out on bowling night. You need to get out and live life. You’re young, hot, and single. No excuses!”

“Actually, I’m not.”

“Jared, don’t go having a self-esteem crisis on me now, okay?”

Jared laughs. “Not that. I’m not single.”

Chad makes a few amusing vowel sounds before he finds his voice. “Since when?”

“This afternoon.”

“Oh, Jay Man. Please tell me you’re not fucking one of your students.”

“Chad! Of course not!”

“Well, then, who?”

“Jensen.”

There’s silence on the line for a long moment. “Ackles?” Chad asks.

“Do we know any other Jensens?” Jared says, rolling his eyes.

“Let me talk to him.”

“What? No.”

“Let me talk to him, or I’m coming over.”

“Fine,” Jared huffs, handing over the phone.

“Hello?” Jensen says.

Jared can’t hear what Chad is saying, but he’s pretty sure he’s going to kill him for whatever it is later because Jensen goes noticeably pale.

“Understood,” he says, hitting the end button before handing the phone back to Jared.

“What did he say to you?” Jared asks.

“We are _cordially_ invited to join him and Misha for a double bowling date tomorrow.”

“That’s it?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Also, he’ll carve my intestines out with a rusty spoon if I ever hurt you again.”

Jared’s shoulders slump. “Sorry. I’ll talk to him.”

“It’s okay,” Jensen says. “He just cares about you. You’re lucky to have a friend like him.”

Jared nods. “Yeah, I am.” A thought strikes him. “Speaking of. Have you talked to Chris lately?”

Jensen’s face tightens. “Not since he got fed up with me and stormed out of my house.”

“You should call him.”

Jensen nods. “Yeah, I will.”

“No, like, right now.”

“Now?”

“Yeah. Call him.”

Jensen takes the phone Jared is bumping against his shoulder and dials. As it’s ringing, he puts it on speaker. “You’ll just make me tell you after, anyway,” he says.

Jared grins. Jensen is right.

“Jared?” Chris says when he picks up, sounding confused.

“It’s me,” Jensen says.

“Jensen? What are you doing on Jared’s—oh. You finally got your head out of your ass, then?”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate the support.”

“Anytime, baby doll,” Chris says.

Jensen relaxes notably at the endearment. “So, we’re—” he starts to ask.

“Cool, Jen. Forget it.”

“Thanks. Um. I’m gonna go.”

“All right. Go do dirty things I never want to hear about.”

“Bye, Chris.”

Jensen hands the phone back to Jared, and Jared turns it off. As the quiet of the room spreads out around them, Jensen tucks his head against Jared’s shoulder. His hair brushes against Jared’s neck.

After a few minutes, Jared rolls over and presses Jensen back against the mattress, kissing him thoroughly. Jensen arches up under him. Their cocks brush together, making Jared hiss with pleasure.

He opens Jensen up, slow and leisurely, and when he finally slides in, it’s easy. They fuck like they have all night, which they do, and Jared marvels at being here. He’s so fucking happy to have Jensen back, and it had better be for good. He doesn’t think he could take living through that again.

After, when darkness has settled on the room and they’re spooned together, Jared asks, “You’re really here to stay, right?”

Jensen twists his head around to catch Jared’s eye. “I promise.”

“I know I said it was all good, I just—”

“I know,” Jensen says. “Tell you what. Why don’t you read next week’s _People_ and then tell me what you think?”

“Why would I—” Jared stops and stares. “Are you serious?”

Jensen nods. “All for you, Jay.”

Jared’s heart feels like it’s going to burst right out of his chest. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Jensen shakes his head. “I don’t know. You must have been an axe murderer in a previous life or something.”

“I’m sure that’s it,” Jared says. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Jensen answers.

As they drift down into sleep, Jared feels like everything is finally exactly the way it’s supposed to be.

  

 

Art by [gigglingkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gigglingkat)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist for this fic, because of course I did. You can download the full thing as a zip file or individual tracks [here](http://www.mediafire.com/folder/cczpgoegsf327/Suburban_Cape_Cod_Blues). Or here's a [youtube playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLaNxPaSlerpuef9-r9_vDs-ogHIz4vt3j).


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